Star Traks: Silverado - Season 2
by Lt. Silverado
Summary: Star Traks: Silverado follows the adventures of the inexperienced Captain Christopher Stafford and his...special...crew aboard an outdated, recycled, 'fixer-upper' of a ship. In Season 2 they encounter everything from hostile repair teams to crazily Happy Klingons to alternate universes. Really, it seems like these guys never get a break!
1. 15 Minutes of Shame

Upload Note: This story was originally published back in 2004, shortly after Silverado Season 1 finished posting.

**Updated April 27 2013 with better formatting.

To Zeph3r: Thank you for your review. Yup, I have a total of 5 seasons of Silverado, one season of Halfway to Haven, a season of Crash Course and a couple Howlers stories. I didn't dedicate my life to this stuff, but I did spend a lot of weekend mornings at Starbucks. I found it was a great way to relax and vent a little steam from the week. As for the Matrians...yeah. I'm not going to argue. They do come back later in the series, but in a very different role from what they played here.

Disclaimer:

Star Trek is owned by Paramount and Viacom

Star Traks was created and is owned by Alan Decker

Silverado was created by Brendan Shust

There. Short, simple and to the point!

Author's note: This story takes place a several weeks after the events of Silverado 1.16, 'Catfight' and shortly after Silverado Book 1. If you haven't read those items, this one will make no sense. If you have read those it's going to be confusing anyway, so here's the deal:  
Characters will be referred to using their actual names and genders, even though the gender of the body they currently inhabit is likely different. If I feel it appropriate to remind you of who's in what body, I'll generally use the Mind/Body format. IE, for Wowryk, who is currently in Jall's body, I would write Wowryk/Jall.  
I hope this makes sense!

Captain's Log, Stardate: 56400.4

"We have, at long last, bid a fond and hopefully permanent farewell to the planet Matria, Matrian space, Dreamland, the Sisters of the Realm and all the assorted bull-s**t that we've been forced to endure since launching this damned ship. Thank God! Thank the Directors! Hell, thank the Q, whatever works! We did enjoy a quick stopover at Senous. Man, when they're not trying to take over our ship, those people sure know how to party! I still have nail marks on my back that haven't fully healed!"

"Sylvia," Stafford/Jeffery said, "Could we transfer that line over to my personal log?"  
"Of course," Sylvia said, then more sharply, "After which I'm going to make a point of pretending I never heard it!"  
"Thanks," Stafford turned back to his log.

"On a negative note, relations between crewmembers are taking a bit of a downturn. Pretty much every single person on this ship had a chance to, uh, fully enjoy the open, um, arms of Senousian hospitality. This of course has led to several disputes over the uses to which our borrowed bodies were put. I really think T'Parief is going to murder Jall. Of course, even if he doesn't kill him for what he did on Senous, he will kill him over the incident the other night with the French Maid's uniform and the marching band."  
"On a positive note, at least one crewmember is benefiting from that whole situation; Counselor Yvonnokoff. Before the body switch, she had a total of about 2 clients. Now she's booked solid. Beyond solid. That lady is busy!"

"I feel nothing but raw hatred and pure disgust," T'Parief/Yanick stated from where he lay on the couch in Yvonnokoff's office, "I wish to perform a ritual Andorian disembowelment on him, after which I will proceed with the Gorn ceremony of Slishness."  
"I see," Yvonnokoff muttered as she tapped frantically on her padd, "And vhat does zis ceremony entail?"  
"I will consume his disemboweled organs. He will witnesses this consumption as he spends the last few moments of his life in complete agony,"  
"I see," Yvonnokoff made a mental note to never visit the Andorian or Gorn homeworlds, "Vhy do you zink you feel zis way?"  
"I have said it already!" T'Parief snapped, slamming Yanick's fist down on an end table. The floral arrangement quivered slightly, "He defiled my body on Senous! He had deviant intercourse with 12 different Senousians!"  
"Interesting," Yvonnokoff muttered, "And if he had had standard intercourse with them instead, what would your reaction be?"  
"I would still be infuriated!" T'Parief hollered.  
"But not disgusted?"  
"Perhaps not," T'Parief admitted after a moments thought, "his stamina was admirable."  
"I see. Vhat ve haff here is a cross-culteral misunderstand," Yvonnokoff crossed her long, slim legs, "You believe that vhat Jall did vas deviant. But you must understand that by his upbringing, he eez merely expressing heez needs in heez own vay. He may feel zat you are not respecting heez uniqueness as an individual."  
"I DO NOT RESPECT HIM AT ALL!" T'Parief shouted.  
"You must," Yvonnokoff said flatly, "According to ze Federation Charter of Rights and Freedoms. It eez your duty as Security Chief to uphold zose ideals and to protect ze feedoms zey represent."  
"You are correct," T'Parief said, grudgingly, "I will admit that I never considered the situation from Jall's point of view. However, I may still loathe and despise him for other reasons?"  
"Of course," Yvonnokoff smiled, "I suggest a holodeck program in which you bash his head in repeatedly."  
"An excellent choice," T'Parief said, "I will admit, Counselor, I have found this session to be much more helpful than I had thought."  
"I am here to serve. Now, about zeez fears of 'deviant behavior'…were you perhaps abused as a child?"  
"No!" T'Parief stormed out of the office.  
"Quack," he muttered as the doors closed.  
Thus Yvonnokoff has proven, once again, that on Silverado, no matter how close to competence you may come, you're ALWAYS going to screw it up in the end!

Sighing in frustration as T'Parief stormed out, Yvonnokoff reflected briefly on her stint as Silverado's ship's counselor;  
Despite the bizarre, messed-up people making up her crew, Yvonnokoff had seen very few patients during her time on the ship, most of the crew preferring to solve their problems with pranks, arguments or the generous application of synthehol. Hardly healthy ways to nurse one's psyche. Only after the incident at Matria did she start getting patients. Most of their problems, like T'Parief's, were the results of simple misunderstandings and could be easily solved. But every time she tried to dig deeper she encountered hard resistance. Stafford refused to admit that he hated his family. T'Parief refused to admit that he had been badly abused as a child. Yanick refused to admit that deep down she harbored lesbian tendencies.  
Maybe she was mistaken? Perhaps there were no deeper issues for her to explore, and that rather than helping, she was instead offending her colleagues?  
Naw….

Author's note: For the record, T'Parief was NOT abused as a child, Stafford does NOT hate his family (much), Yanick does NOT have lesbian tendencies (that I know about, anyway) and Yvonnokoff is indeed offending and annoying her colleagues.

The terminal in front of her came to life as the computer-generated image of Sylvia's face, that of a friendly woman in her mid-40s or so, appeared on the display.  
"Hello, Counselor," Sylvia said, "I believe it's time for my appointment?"  
"Jes, of course," Yvonnokoff said, putting her professional face forward as she adjusted the tight bun in which her blond hair was pulled, "Now, during our last session ve made progress in vorking through your matronly feelings towards ze crew. Vere you, perhaps, abandoned by your own mozer?"

Commander Noonan was settling into a large armchair in the corner of Unbalanced Equations, a glass of what looked like wine in one hand and a book in the other. He had borrowed 'The Nephew of the Sister of the Cousin of the Great-Great-Granddaughter of the Queen of the Damned' by Anne Rice from Captain Stafford. It was a fascinating read. He had no idea how it was that Anne had picked up on so many things that most humans would have completely missed.  
"Excuse me, Commander?"  
Setting his book down, Noonan turned to find Counselor Yvonnokoff standing next to his chair.  
"Yes, how may I help you?" he asked, smiling politely.  
"Quite frankly, Commander, I am finding myself run into ze ground," she said, "Aside the ze victims of the body svitch, I now have a variety of crewmembers coming to me vith zere problems."  
"I think it's great that they're starting to make use of your expertise. Isn't that your job?" Noonan asked, not unkindly.  
"It is," Eva agreed, "But zere are simply too many of zem! I do not haff time to get into deep detail with each patient!"  
"Perhaps you should concentrate on immediate issues and leave the probing for a less busy time," Noonan suggested.  
"Vell, that does make sense," Yvonnokoff said, leaning against the wall, "But zere is anozer problem."  
"Yes?" Noonan asked, sipping his 'wine'.  
"Most of ziz crew has serious problems with face to face interaction!" she fumed, "Ve start to make progress, zen zey fly right out ze door! It's as though zey are scared to talk!"  
"Have you tried anything in regards to this?"  
"Yes. I conducted a session vith Crewman Shwaluk via comm-link. He vas involved in some sort of project and could not come to my office. It vas," she admitted, "my most productive session to date."  
"Then perhaps you should give more sessions like that," Noonan said, picking up his book.  
Yvonnokoff looked thoughtful, "Jes. Also, I could-"  
"I have complete faith in you, Councilor. Do what you think best."

The next evening, Stafford pulled himself out of his command chair after a truly boring shift. Traveling through space at Warp 3.5 was really NOT exciting when one thought about it.  
"She's all yours," he said to his relief, "Have fun," Most of the other day shift officers had already taken off. Stafford moved to follow them.  
At that moment Ensign Burke burst from the rear turbolift, arms full of popcorn, Buffalo wings and bottled beverages.  
"All right, who gets the…oh. Hi Captain," he said sheepishly.  
"What's this?"  
"Um, evening entertainment?"  
Stafford glared at Burke.  
"I know it's not really regulation, sir," Burke stammered, "but do you have any idea how frigging boring it is? Sitting up here all night with nothing to do?"  
"Actually I do," Stafford said, "Next time, bring enough for the day shift!"  
"Oh. Aye sir."  
"So what's on the screen tonight?"  
"'The Federation's Funniest Vid-Clips.'"  
Stafford scratched his head.  
"Must be a new one."  
"It's new on the Associated Worlds Network," Lieutenant Stern piped up, "They're trying to compete against Krinorkor's 'Win or Else!'."  
"Thank God," muttered Ensign Day as he slid into the Ops console, "The Klingons at Krinokor don't know the first thing about comedy!"  
"They're running a five day special," Burke said, "'Starfleet's Finest?' We've got a bet going to see what poor boobs got snagged."  
Grinning, Stafford settled back into his command chair.  
"What are our odds?" he asked.  
"We've been a bit out of touch," Stern admitted, "The odds of us making the show are slim."  
"Got it!" Day announced.  
The main viewscreen came to life as an annoyingly cheesy show tune began to play. The show's title hovered briefly before the camera panned over a studio audience and onto an overweight Trill sitting on the stage.  
"Hello, and welcome to the Federation's Funniest Vid-clips! I'm Sod Regath. This evening, we'll be taking a close look at those who are trusted with protecting our sovereignty and exploring new frontiers, the pride of the Federation, Starfleet! And I'll think you'll find that 'Starfleet's Finest' really live up to their titles!" He gave an exaggerated wink as the studio audience broke into applause.

"This guy isn't even funny," Stafford muttered as he walked over to where Day was hogging the popcorn, "His monologue is about as entertaining as Fifebee's science briefings."  
"It's the clips you want to see, sir," Day muttered back.

"And so," the fat Trill was saying, "Without further joking, here's our first clip! Please meet the crew of the U.S.S. Aerostar!"

Commander David Conway sat down in the command chair, on the bridge of the U.S.S. Aerostar-A.  
"Okay, people, what have we got today? More exploring and whatnot? Good. Carry on."  
"Sir," Lt. Commander Zack Ford piped up from the helm. "Could you come over here for a second? I've got some funny readings here on sensors."  
Conway rolled his eyes. "I JUST sat down, Ford. Why couldn't you tell me these things BEFORE I sit down."  
"Sorry, sir."  
Conway leaned out of his chair, then his eyes bugged out when he realized there was some resistance. His pants were stuck to the chair!  
Immediately, the bridge broke down into guffaws, as suddenly Conway jerked forward and yanked himself free, tearing off the whole back end of his uniform pants, revealing Dale Earnheardt "Intimidator" boxers.  
He calmly walked over to the helm, his shredded pants flapping.  
"Mister Ford. Know anything about this?"  
Ford smothered his laughter. "About what, sir?"  
"The GIANT HOLE in my PANTS!"  
"Oh. That. No sir, no idea." And he laughed even harder.  
"Oh, I get it. Practical joke." Conway giggled. "Funny. You guys really got me. That was a good one." His smile disappeared as he wrapped his hands around Ford's neck and shook him vigorously. "You little-!"  
Oddly, the rest of the bridge crew kept laughing.

Popcorn was scattered across the bridge carpet at loud laughter and guffaws filled the air. Stafford clutched the arm of his command chair to keep from falling while Stern and Burke was doubled over the Tactical console.  
"What a sucker!" laughed Ensign Pye from the helm, "What a total dumbass!"  
"Have some respect for your superiors," Stafford forced out through fits of giggles.

The next evening, Stafford could hardly wait for his shift to end.  
"Hey, boss," Jall called.  
"This is a Starfleet ship," Stafford said tiredly, "Don't call me 'boss'."  
"OK, your Majesty. Just thought you'd like to know that Councilor Yvonnokoff has just put thought a request for several subspace comm channels and an increase in her communications bandwidth."  
"What for?" Stafford asked.  
"Doesn't say. Just says that she has approval from Commander Noonan."  
"Eh," Stafford shrugged, "Can we spare the resources?"  
"Sure," Jall said, "We're barely using a quarter of our-"  
"Yeah, whatever. Shift change!"  
Stafford remained firmly seated in his command chair as the rest of his senior officers filed out of the bridge.  
"Aren't ya coming down for dinner?" Ensign Yanick asked from the helm.  
"No," Stafford said, "I think I'll, um, just hang out around here for a while."  
Noonan and Yanick exchanged glances, then turned to Stafford.  
"You never stay late after your shift!" Trish said, crossing her/Stafford's arms as she glared down at him, "You're usually out of here as soon as humanly possible!"  
"Yes, well, I thought I'd take more of an interest in what the night shift is up to," Stafford said defiantly, "Captain's prerogative. Now scram!"  
Shrugging, Noonan and Yanick started for the turbolift, only to run into Ensign Day. This time it was Day's turn to bring the snacks, and his arms were loaded with a stack of at least half a dozen pizzas.  
Yanick turned angrily to Stafford.  
"CHRIS!" she whined, "You were throwing a party WITHOUT ME?"  
"No, no," Stafford said quickly, "of course not! I, uh, just thought you'd rather be with T'Par-"  
"Screw that!" Yanick snapped, grabbing an entire pizza from Day and dropping down into Noonan's chair, "Where's the beer?"  
Rolling his eyes, Noonan proceeded into the turbolift.  
"Beer," Stafford said flatly, crossing his arms and trying to look stern, "Is not permitted on the bridge of MY ship!"  
"Is vodka OK?"  
"NO! Now go grab me a root beer or something!"  
Grumbling, Yanick trudged to the replicator and started filling drink orders.  
"I'm getting the feeling," Burke muttered to Stern, "That our party has just been crashed."

As AWN again appeared on the screen, the bridge crew was treated to a seemingly endless series of commercials, the last of which featured a Rigillian male standing in front of a comfortable looking living room.  
"She's cool! She's sexy! And she wants to talk about YOU! The Doctor is IN! So tune in for the series premier of 'The Vonna Show'! Coming soon, only on AWN!"  
"Another new series?" Burke groaned.  
"Another TALK SHOW?" Stern whined, "Why can't they do anything interesting, like 'Vulcan Veskenth Vixans'?  
"Shut up, it's on!" Stafford called back.

Once again the screen was filled with the logo for 'Federation's Funniest Vid-Clips' as the cheesy music again played in the background. The camera panned around the studio audience as they went wild with applause before zooming in on the fat Trill host.  
"Hello everybody! Ba-da bing! And welcome to another installment of 'Starfleet's Finest?' on Federation's Funniest Vid-Clips! But hey, how many Starfleet officers does it take to change a light bulb? Seven! One to man the helm, one to shout orders, one to activate a deflector pulse, one to create a static warp field, one to ask the computer for an illumination analysis, one to blow up the old light bulb with a quantum torpedo and two to screw the light bulb into the waste reclamation unit! Hyuk-hyuk-hyuk. "  
"Man, this guy STINKS!" Yanick complained.  
"We're here for the clips, not the host," Stafford said.  
"And so," the host was saying, "without further adudo, I bring you tonight's installment of 'Starfleet's Finest?'! And I tell ya, those folks out at Waystation are 'way' funny!"  
The entire bridge crew groaned at the horrible joke.

With Starfleet Square Mall's zero-gravity hover-rink far below him, Lieutenant Commander Craig Porter carefully maneuvered himself into position near the ceiling with his own pair of zero-G boots. Of course, his pair had a self-contained anti-grav source as opposed to the ones being used by the hover-rink's patrons, which were activated the hover-rink's systems.  
In all honesty, he would much rather be on the ground, but when the fluctuations in the internal sensor relays in this sector showed up on the Operations status board, Porter realized that it was his turn to take the call. Sure he could have assigned it to one of his staff, but he was a firm believer in the idea that you shouldn't order people to do things that you wouldn't be willing to do yourself.  
So here he was, well above both levels of the mall concourse, prying open a panel positioned between two of the skylights that looked out at space beyond.  
The panel hinged open, allowing Porter to scan the systems inside with his tricorder. One of the sensor relay junctions had obviously been knocked out of sync somehow. He just needed to get in there with an attenuator and realign the field. Keeping the tricorder in one hand, Porter reached into the tool pouch at his side, felt for the attenuator, then brought it up into the panel and activated it.  
Getting back to the junction box itself would be a little bit of a stretch, but if he could just get around this...  
Whoops.  
The active attenuator banged against a conduit and was knocked from his hand. It dropped in the bottom of the access hatch, bounced off of the edge, then plummeted down toward the hover-rink below.  
Porter watched the descent with growing dread. From this angle it looked like the attenuator was going to land on... No. Not there. Please not there.  
It was going there.  
The attenuator slammed into the primary control unit for the hover-rink and actually pierced the unit's housing, sending the device's active end inside the hover-rink's circuitry.  
Nothing happened.  
Porter let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. If that attenuator had survived the fall and started affecting the precisely tuned fields of the hover-rink, the results would...  
...look exactly like this:  
The two dozen odd hover-skaters circling the rink suddenly began accelerating wildly, spinning around and around until one-by-one they were launched across the mall. A few patrons who had been flung upward screamed and failed wildly as they arced and smashed down onto tables in the food court on the second level overlooking the rink.  
The carnage continued with living projectiles rocketing up and down the mall, slamming into kiosks and panicked shoppers. One poor soul crashed through the Andorian restaurant's front window and landed square in the Mishtak pit, where he was instantly set upon by a snarling Nausicaan determined to win a free meal.  
At last the rink had completely emptied, ending the horror. Porter wondered if maybe he could just stay up there forever because there was no way he was going down to face these people now.  
Porter didn't get to ponder the thought for long as, unbeknownst to him, the damaged hover-rink field had expanded and was at that very moment causing his boots to shut off.  
He figured it out pretty quickly, though.  
And down he went.

The bridge was once again rocked with laughter as the various holo-skaters were flung about and Lieutenant Porter plummeted to the deck.  
"That poor guy!" Yanick forced out as she giggled hysterically, "That poor, poor guy! He seemed so nice when we met him! This is SOO not funny!"  
"Then why," Stafford gasped, "are you laughing?"  
"Because it's hilarious!"  
Finally, as the laugher subsided, Stafford turned to address Ensign Day.  
"Ensign, send the following message to Waystation, text only:" He cleared his throat, "To Captain Beck and the crew of Waystation from Captain Stafford and the crew of the U.S.S. Silverado. Way to go!"  
"Message sent," Day say with a chuckle.  
"So are we gonna watch the rest of the show?" Yanick asked.  
"Naw," cut in Burke, "It's kinda boring. I mean, how many times can you watch a Klingon get hit in the balls?"  
"At least three or four times," Stern said, pointing at the screen, "And once more!"  
Indeed the current vid-clip was showing a massive male Klingon chasing after a child in what looked like the Klingon version of a living room.  
"You will put that toy bat'leth away and sleep now, pathetic child!" he roared.  
Charging his parent, the Klingon kid gave a high-pitched battle roar before swinging his toy bat-leth straight up into his father's crotch, bringing a furious roar of agony as the larger Klingon fell to the floor.  
"Dishonourable…p'tak," he wheezed, "You will die for this!"  
"I hate to interrupt," called Ensign Day, "But we've got a reply from Waystation, text only."  
"Oh yeah?" asked Stafford, "What do they say?"  
"To Captain Stafford and the crew of the U.S.S. Silverado from Captain Beck and the crew of Waystation," Day read, "BITE ME!"

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the ship, two figures were looking over a complex bank of equipment.  
"Does ze Captain know what's going on?" asked one figure.  
"No," replied the other, "I've taken steps to ensure that he finds this incident to be a…surprise."  
"Do you zink he'll be angry?"  
"Oh, very likely. But that will only add entertainment value. Now, I have chosen an accomplice for you in this. Be sure he has this equipment up and ready for tomorrow. If we fail, our contact on Waystation will be very angry."  
"Jes, sir."

Yanick pulled herself out of bed with a loud half groan/half sob. She had stayed up WAY too late, having gone down to the lounge after the show and proceeding to drink herself silly with a gang of security officers. Bumping her head against the shelf she had mounted over her bed and cursing Stafford's annoying tallness she moved towards her bathroom.  
After enjoying a long, luxurious water shower, complete with fruity-scented bubbles, she emerged and toweled herself off, noticing in disgust the hair covering her/Stafford's legs and chest.  
Stafford had forbidden her to shave, paint, polish or otherwise decorate any part of his body. Yanick had been trying to respect that, she really had. But seeing those hairy legs every morning was really getting to her.  
What the hell. She wore pants all day anyway….Stafford would never know…

"Wowryk to Stafford, please report to Sickbay,"  
"Oh man," Stafford groaned, sitting in the cargo bay that had been converted into a temporary Officer's Mess, "What the hell could SHE possibly want?"  
"Ah dunno," replied Jeffery around a mouthful of bacon, "But if Ah were you Ah'd get right down there."  
"Hey, I'm her Captain, not her boyfriend," Stafford said, indignant as he stood from the table, "I don't take orders from her!"  
"Right," Jeffery said, swallowing, "That's why you're not walking away from a plate full of breakfast to do her bidding,"  
"I'm leaving because I want to, not because Dr. Wowryk is telling me to!" Stafford called back as he walked out the door.  
"Yeah, right," Jeffery muttered, pulling Stafford's abandoned stack of pancakes to his side of the table.

"What's up, Doc?" Stafford asked as he walked into Sickbay. His casual attitude immediately dropped as he saw his own body lying on the bio-bed.  
"Now isn't the time for jokes, Captain," Wowryk said, running a dermal regenerator over Yanick/Stafford's leg, "Your helmswoman just tried to kill herself!"  
"Stop being so dramatic!" Yanick snapped before Stafford could respond, "I had a tiny accident with my shaving phrazer. That hardly counts as suicide!"  
"Razors are a traditional tool for those wishing to thwart God's plan by ending their lives early," Wowryk said coolly.  
"Excuse me," Stafford interrupted, "but WHAT HAPPENED?"  
"I was trying to shave my legs," Yanick started, a guilty look on her face as she fidgeted with the bio-bed pillow.  
"Yeah," Wowryk scoffed, tossing her head, "With the phrazor turned up to max! These legs have deep tissue phrazer burns all over! A bit more juice and the leg would have come right off!"  
"The Captain's got hairy legs!" Trish objected.  
"AND I LIKE THEM THAT WAY!" Stafford roared, "Hairy, and attached to my body! NO MORE SHAVING!"  
"Yes, sir," Yanick pouted.  
"It's nothing permanent," Wowryk assured Stafford, "I'll fix her…you…" she frowned, "What was I saying?"  
"You'll fix the burnt legs?" Yanick said helpfully.  
"Right," Wowryk nodded, "But I want her in therapy or confession until those suicidal impulses are gone!"  
"I'm not suicidal!" Yanick objected.  
"I think I'll side with her on this one," Stafford said to Wowryk, "However, therapy to get rid of her fear of hairy legs wouldn't hurt."  
"Counselor Yvonnokoff is trying out some new counseling techniques today," Wowryk said thoughtfully.  
"Whatever," Stafford muttered. Then, louder, "Trish, go see the counselor. Get over your fear of hair and for God's sake, leave my legs alone!" He stormed out.  
"Maybe I could wax…" Yanick said thoughtfully.

Stafford sat in his command chair at the end of his shift as the ship's bells sounded the shift change. Day, Stern and Pye had already reported to the bridge and were waiting to take over for the day shift.  
Nobody was moving.  
"Uh, guys," Stern said, arms crossed, "it's gonna be hard for us to take over for you if you WON'T LEAVE!"  
"We're not going anywhere," Jall said from the Aux console, "Trish told us all about the show, so we're gonna watch with you guys tonight."  
"Can't you do that from your quarters?" Pye asked, hovering beside Trish's helm console.  
"We could," said T'Parief from tactical, "But not with a 7 foot high viewscreen and leather bucket seats."  
"Um, we stand at tactical," Stern muttered to the Security Chief.  
"Silence," T'Parief snapped softly.  
"We're just staying for the first clip," Stafford assured the night crew, "Then we'll be out of your hair."  
"I'm gonna go get some chairs from the conference lounge," grumbled Stern.  
"Here I am!" Burke announced as he eased out of the turbolift, arms laden with Chinese food.  
"Better get extra," Pye sighed.

The bridge was feeling more than a bit crowded with two full shifts sitting, standing or leaning as they faced the main viewscreen. The smell of fried food and rice filled the air as the screen flickered on, playing another ad for the upcoming 'Vonna Show'. Nobody paid any attention, focusing on filling their faces.  
Finally, the ads were replaced with the now familiar logo and theme music of 'Federation's Funniest Vid-clps."  
"Greetings one and all," gushed the fat Trill host, name still unknown, "and welcome to the 'Federation's Funniest Vid-clips!" Hey, have you heard the one about the Klingon, the Ferengi and the bottle of soy sauce?"  
"Hey, I know this one!" Burke piped up, "It's actually really funny!"  
"I thought this guy was incapable of funny," Yanick asked.  
"Eh, every once in a-"  
"Do you mind?" Stafford cut off the blond ensign, "You made us miss the joke! Shut up!"  
"And now," the host was saying, "We've got a pack of Starfleeters who bring whole new meaning to the word 'embarrasment'!"  
"Man, I wonder who they've dug up this time?" Stafford wondered.  
"Many of you who keep in touch with the news on our wonderful Associated Worlds Network may already know this particular group as the crew of the 'U.S.S. S**tbox, PU4-EVER!"  
"Oh dear," Noonan said softly.

Jall/T'Parief, Yanick/Stafford, Jeffery/Wowryk and several minor characters came marching down the corridor, Jall/T'Parief in the lead. He was dressed in a black and white French maid's uniform, complete with frilly hat and swinging a drum major's scepter. The others had pulled marching band uniforms over their regular off-duty cloths and were continuing to sing, very horribly, at the top of their lungs as they marched/staggered drunkenly down one of the curved corridors ringing the saucer section.

Around the rings and under the sun!  
Here we come!  
Full of rum!  
Looking for someone to spank on the bum!  
SIL-VER-ADO!

Jall took up the tune:

T'Parief, T'Parief,  
Tall, ugly lizard!  
He'll rip your apart, and eat your guts!  
Especially your gizzard!

There were assorted guffaws as the group came across another corridor, shoving some poor crewman out of the way as they turned the corner.

The Captain, The Captain,  
Feeble timid prick!  
Every time he opens his mouth,  
It makes me feel sick!

The helmsman, the helmsman,  
Dirty old Yanick!  
She talks so much, that all the men,  
Run off in a panic!

"ALL RIGHT, STOP IT!" came the scream as the group turned another corner to find T'Parief/Yanick standing in the corridor with a phaser rifle, flanked by two security guards, "You will follow me to brig, where you will spend the night for being drunk and disorderly! AND YOU!" he pointed a quivering, enraged finger at Jall, "How DARE you-"  
"Batter up!" Jall called out drunkenly as he swung the scepter up, ready to use it as a shield. Snarling, an odd expression on Yanick's sweet face, T'Parief chocked up on his phaser rifle, gripping it like a club and swinging at Jall. Jall parried drunkenly with the scepter, stumbling as he overcompensated. He swung as hard as he could with the scepter, missing T'Parief completely and smashing the heavy staff into the computer panel on the corridor wall, electing a screech of protest from Sylvia.  
Unfortunately, beneath the gleaming new panels, the corridor in that section of the ship consisted of very old, very stressed and very weak duranium. The shock of the impact shook loose one of the long ceiling panels. The panel swung down, smashing right into Jall/T'Parief and sending him sprawling back, landing flat on his tail and crushing several crewmen beneath him.  
"T'Parief to Security. Cleanup on Deck 9."

Nobody was laughing this time.  
"HA-HA-HA-HA!"  
Well, nobody should have been laughing.  
Everybody turned to stare at Ensign Burke as he giggled and pointed at the screen.  
"Those poor bastards!" he gasped, "Man, I bet that-"  
Jall reached beneath his console, pulling out the tiny Type 1 phaser he kept there and proceeded to stun Burke.  
Normally, Stafford would have been infuriated by Jall's itchy trigger finger, but at the moment he had larger problems to consider.  
"This," he said, very calmly, "is NOT good!"  
"No s**t!" Yanick yelled, "Do you know what my parents are going to say when they see me-well, my body anyway, shooting somebody!"  
"YOUR PARENTS?" roared T'Parief, "WHAT IS MY FAMILY GOING TO SAY!?"  
"Oh come on," Jall said, "It's not like they ever watch AWN on Qu'nos. Or Andoria. Or whatever."  
"That's true," Yanick said reassuringly, "If AWN tried to broadcast to Qu'nos, Krinorkor would gut them. I'm sure nobody saw your body in that cute little skirt."  
"My family," T'Parief said coldly, "lives on Nisus. In the Federation. Where AWN broadcasts. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to start looking up the procedures for Andorian ritual suicide."  
"Don't Andorians have to have that stuff memorized?" asked Stern, "I remember this Andorian chick at the Academy-"  
"I'm only ¼ Andorian," T'Parief said as he walked towards the turbolift.  
"Gorn methods are less painful," Fifebee called out as the turbolift doors closed, "Although less creative," she muttered under her breath.  
Stern and Day turned to look at her incredulously.  
"What?" she asked, "I'm a science officer. It's my duty to know these things."  
"Yeah, we just didn't realize you were still here," Stern said.  
"He's, uh, not really going to go kill himself, is he?" Yanick asked, "Cuz if he does, Noel's gonna send him into therapy."  
"Can we please focus on the problem at hand?" Stafford said, annoyed. He'd been brooding in his chair, face in his hands, "We're about to become the laughing stock of the Federation!"  
"Actually," Day piped up, "whoever wins the show is gonna be the laughingstock, so it could be us, Waystation or Aerostar."  
"Jall?" Stafford gestured towards Day. Jall pulled out his phaser again and stunned the poor Ensign.  
"OK, clear the bridge!" Stafford called out, "Anybody who isn't on duty get the hell out."

Rather then heading to his quarters or to the lounge, Stafford was pacing in his ready room.  
"Sylvia," he called out, "open channels to Waystation and the U.S.S. Aerostar. I wanna talk to Captains Beck and Conway."  
"What do we say?" Sylvia asked pointedly.  
"PLEASE!"  
"Of course. Channels open."  
Stafford waited several minutes.  
"I have Captain Conway. Captain Beck is apparently unavailable," Sylvia reported.  
"Put Conway on."  
A grumpy looking officer in Starfleet command-red pajamas appeared on the screen.  
"Who the hell are you and what do you think you're doing calling me at this hour!"  
"Captain Chris Stafford of the U.S.S. Silverado," Stafford said, "And it's only 19:00 hours!"  
"Not on this ship, buddy," grumbled Conway, "Now what the hell do you want?"  
"We have a problem in common-"  
"Uh-huh. I've heard about you, Captain," Conway said, yanwing and stretching, "I really don't think a pack of newbies in a 70 year old ship can have much in common with a ship of the line like the Aerostar."  
"It's only 50 years old!" Stafford objected, "And I'll have you know that this 'pack of newbies' just saved the Federation a few weeks ago!"  
"Whatever," Conway grunted, "Now, I'm going back to bed. If you need anything else from me, kindly f**k off!"  
"Are you wearing your Dale Earnheardt "Intimidator" boxers, Captain?" Stafford asked before Conway could change the channel.  
Conway looked at him in shock.  
"How do you know about those?" he snapped.  
"Sylvia," Stafford said with an evil grin, "Please transmit the recording of Conway's little problem.  
As the clip of Conway's pants ripping was played over the channel, Stafford had the joy of watching Conway indulge in a very impressive display of profanity.  
"How did you get this?" Conway finally asked.  
"It was broadcast to the entire Federation," Stafford filled Conway in on the 'Federations Funniest Vid-clip' show, concluding with "These people must die."  
"I have better things to do then chase after some fat Trill," Conway grumbled, "I've had nothing but trouble when Trills are involved."  
"So what, you're just going to this bastard get away with humiliating us?" Stafford demanded.  
"Yup," Conway shrugged, "I really don't care what happens to you or Waystation."  
"But they got you too!"  
"Yup. And somebody on this ship is going to die a slow, painful death for sending them that recording!" Conway vowed, "Now get lost, and don't EVER call me again!"

The next morning, Stafford sat in the conference lounge with his senior officers as he relayed his conversation with Conway.  
"So he doesn't care that his butt was broadcast across the quadrant?" Wowryk asked thoughtfully, "That's very noble and forgiving. You could learn a lesson from that man."  
Stafford gave her an annoyed look as Yanick chuckled into her hand.  
"He does care," he said tiredly, "but he'd rather destroy the member of his crew that sent in the recording then chase some fat Trill. An idea I very much agree with."  
T'Parief/Yanick straightened up in his seat. Evidently he hadn't been very thorough with his ritual suicide  
"Somebody on this ship sent in that recording?" he snapped. He'd decided to follow his Klingon heritage this time and had wanted to spend an hour in the holodeck with an army of Klingon warriors carrying painsticks. Yanick had vetoed that idea, claiming that the energy discharges would dry her skin. "I will destroy them!"  
"Conway's plan exactly," Stafford said, "T'Parief, your job is to find the culprit and carry out suitable punishment. Suitable for Starfleet, that is.  
"With pleasure," T'Parief said.  
"Anything else we need to discuss?" Stafford asked, looking around the room.  
No response.  
"OK, meeting adjourned."

Just because there wasn't anything to discuss as a group doesn't mean that everybody wasn't busy. Jeffery was trying to keep the damaged warp engines running and arranging what repairs he could. Fifebee and Wowryk were spending most of their time locked in Science Lab One with the captured Matrian SID, trying to figure out how to switch everybody back to their own bodies. Stafford was trying to help Jeffery and Fifebee, but was in reality doing a better job of getting in the way as opposed to actually helping. Yanick was bored stiff. Jall, who should have been as busy as Jeffery, was instead spending what time he could terrifying various crewmembers with T'Pariefs claws and teeth. Noonan had developed a habit of disappearing completely when his bridge shift was over, which surprised (and relieved) most of the night shift. They'd grown used to him staying for extended shifts, but still preferred to have as few senior officers around as possible.  
The evening viewings of 'Federation's Funniest Vid-clips' had ended. Somehow, having something happen to you just wasn't as funny as watching it happen to somebody else. The night shift once again had free reign of the bridge. The next evening Stafford was sitting with Yanick and T'Parief. He'd spend much less time with Yanick after she and T'Parief started dating. Any time he had, the two had spent the evening making goofy eyes at each other and generally making him feel like the odd man out. Now that they were in different bodies, their romance had cooled considerably.  
Stafford sipped his hot chocolate and listened as Yanick described, in great detail, the article she had read. 'Losing Weight Through Fear-Induced Sweating' really didn't sound like fun to Stafford. He said so.  
"Yeah, me neither," Yanick admitted, "I read it in an Andorian healthy living magazine."  
"Why the hell would you read that?" Stafford chuckled, "They're idea of a healthy meal…" he trailed off as he remembered T'Parief's partial Andorian background.  
"Yeah," Yanick said before T'Parief could respond, "But I figured I should be learning more about T'Parief's culture." She frowned, "Cultures," she then amended.  
"Um, right."  
The holographic vid-screen kicked in at the other end of the lounge as somebody or other decided they wanted to watch some show or other.  
"AND NOW, WE WELCOME YOU TO "THE-"  
"TURN THAT DOWN!" Stafford roared.  
"STARRING EVA YVONNOkoff…" the sound trailed off.  
Stafford's eyes widened, his breath caught and his heart skipped a beat.  
"Did just say 'Eva Yvonnokoff?'" he asked, sitting ramrod straight in his chair.  
"I think so," Trish replied.  
"TURN IT UP, TURN IT UP!" Stafford cried, running to the screen.  
Displayed on the screen was an image of Counselor Yvonnokoff, seated in a very comfortable looking office. Stafford stook in front of the screen, jaw hanging open, ignoring the calls of 'move it' and 'get out of the way!' from the viewers behind him.  
"Velcome all to ze premier of 'Ze Vonna Show," Eva was saying. Her hair was in it's usual tight bun, but she had exchanged her Starfleet uniform for a more formal business suit, "During ziz show, ve will explore ze psyche of sentient beings from across ze Federation as ve attempt to free zem from problems impacting zere everyday lives. So, call in on subspace channel 6466. All names will be replaced with aliases to protect ze privacy of our callers. Remember, I am here for you. Our first call is from 'Cory'. 'Cory' is calling us from ze starship Silverado and he's having problems with his Commanding Officer."  
"Oh dear God," Stafford whispered as he passed out.

"Vell, Samantha," Yvonnokoff said, looking at the holocam in her studio as she gave what she hoped was a welcoming smile, "I vould suggest that you confront your mate immediately and tell him how his unfaithfulness has made you feel."  
"But he's Andorian!" wailed the hysterical woman over the comm-link, "If I confront him, he'll gut me like a fish!"  
"Perhaps you should have thought about zat before you married him," Yvonnokoff said flatly, "In any case, ze Federation Embassy on Andor can provide you with ze protection you need."  
"Oh, thank you Dr. Vonna," said Samantha, "I love your show!" There was a click as the line disconnected.  
"Zank you for your call," Yvonnokoff said, "Bart, who do we have next?"  
Bartholomew Gibson, Yvonnokoff's new assistant, was a bald headed young crewman with nose and earrings that swung gently as he looked up from his control panel behind the holocam.  
"We've got 'Craig' calling in from the starship Silverado," Ben said, a glimmer in his eyes, "He's having trouble with one of his sub-ordinates."  
"Hello 'Craig'," Yvonnokoff said with a broad smile, "I'm here for you,"  
"NO YOU'RE NOT!" screamed Stafford/Jeffery's voice, "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DOWN IN YOUR OFFICE HELPING THE NUTCASES ON THIS SHIP, NOT ON THE AIR IMPORTING FRESH WACKOS FROM ACROSS THE QUADRANT!"  
"Please, Cap, um, 'Craig,'" Yvonna said, looking very annoyed as she glared at Bart through the transparent divider, "Control yourself. I am here to help you. Let's begin with using 'I' statements. 'I think', 'I feel,' and so forth."  
"OK," Stafford said, his voice taking on heavy sarcasm, "I feel that YOU are airing this ship's dirty laundry to the world for your own cheap thrills!"  
"I see," Yvonna addressed her audience, "Ziz is an unfortunate misunderstanding. Let me take zis oppurunity to explain my position better."  
"I am ze ship's councilor for ze U.S.S. Silverado. As such, I vork vith ze crew to resolve zier issues. Vith ze approval of ze First Officer, I now take calls from on and off ze ship for 3 hours every day. You can see the first hour nightly here on AWN, vhile ze rest is broadcast on ze sister network, AWN Radio. I continue to serve as ship's councilor and provide full support for zis ship."  
No reply.  
"Allo?" Yvonnakoff asked.  
"I think we've lost 'Craig'," Ben said with a grin.  
"And now for these important messages," Yvonnokoff signed, switching over to an ad for the 'Dillon TerryFormer Jr."  
"You are supposed to be screening zese calls!" Eva accused Gibson.  
"I'm supposed to give priority to Silverado calls," Gibson replied with a smile, "especially the juicy ones!"  
"I vish you vould have told ze captain to go stuff himself instead."

Stafford was marching down the corridor intent on one goal: Noonan's office.  
"Hey Cap-" started a young, blond ensign.  
"Not now," Stafford snapped, brushing past.  
"I just wanted to say how much I liked this ship…" Ensign Kregar said, lip quivering as Stafford stormed off.  
Stafford didn't bother knocking, storming right into Noonan's office.  
"You've got a lot of nerve!" he snapped.  
Noonan looked up from where he was engrossed in a crew report.  
"In what way?" he asked politely.  
"Yvonnokoff said you authorized her to do a talk show!"  
"Yes. And?"  
Stafford fumed.  
"What business do you have letting her spread our problems across the galaxy! Don't you think we've got enough bad publicity, between the Funniest Vid-clips and Lynch's paint job prank!?"  
"I doubt it would be bad publicity," Noonan said calmly, "We're acceptable calls from across the quadrant, not only from Silverado. And Starfleet has ordered that all body-switching inquires to confined to Counselor Yvonnokoff's regular sessions. They want to keep a tight lid on that situation."  
"You had no right to do this!" Stafford snapped, "You should have put this through me first!"  
Noonan frowned.  
"The First Officer is in charge of personnel," he said, "Starfleet's PR department approved the idea. I assumed you had enough to worry about."  
"You assumed wrong," Stafford sat across from Noonan, "I want anything, ANYTHING that could impact this ship or crew brought to me, first! And I want Yvonnokoff off the air!"  
"She has," Noonan said, "signed a contract. She will be on the air for some time."  
Stafford blew out a frustrated breath, rubbing his forehead.  
"At least," he said finally, "can we have her stop telling everybody where her callers are from?"  
"Of course," Noonan said with a smile, "And Captain, I think you'll find that having her on the air will be very good for our image."  
"God knows it couldn't get any worse!" Stafford picked up a carafe of what looked like wine from Noonan's desk and poured himself a drink.  
"Um, Captain-" Noonan started.  
"Shush," Stafford cut him off, "Now, what are we going to do about the vid-clips thing?"  
"Mr. T'Parief is investigating, but-"  
"Yeah. He did pretty good with those bodies we found a few weeks ago. I guess he'll figure this one out."  
"I'm sure," Noonan was starting to sweat, "But-"  
"I just can't stand the way Starfleet thinks of us!" Stafford said, pacing again, his 'wine' in one hand, "They ignore us, abuse us and insult us! We work hard and finally get an ounce of credibility, and it gets blown away! We got some respect after we stopped that pirate at Waystation, then became total laughingstocks when our plumbing disabled the whole ship! We defeat the Matrians, but now we have a video of our crew doing really stupid stuff on AWN. Where does it end?"  
"We just need to do our best," Noonan said, not really paying attention to what Stafford was saying, "But Captain, that-"  
"F**k it," Stafford said finally, "We're just going to hold our heads high and to hell with what everybody thinks. But you've crossed the line here, bud!" He threw back the 'wine' in one gulp, then promptly spit it out all over Noonan's carpet.  
"Man," he gasped, "I think your wine's gone bad or something.  
"Or something," Noonan sighed.

T'Parief commandeered the conference lounge the next morning and promptly began interrogating subjects. Never since the incident at Matria had he wanted his razor-sharp teeth back so badly.  
"So," he said in Yanick's cute, girly voice, "What were you doing on Stardate 564600.6?"  
"I was on duty," Lieutenant Jall reported, smirking at T'Parief with the security officer's own face, "Why?"  
"That was the deadline for the contest entry." T'Parief replied, tapping on his padd, "Did you, at any time access the security logs of Deck 9 between the Stardates of 564595 and 564600?"  
"Nope. Y'know, I was wondering, just how do you get your hair so silky soft?"  
"Shut up," T'Parief said simply, "I have reviewed the security logs. They show that you accessed the security database at 14:00h on Stardate 564597. Explain." He crossed his arms smugly, unaware of how incredibly cute Yanick looks when she tries to look smug. Jall burst out laughing.  
"What is so funny?" T'Parief/Yanick snapped.  
"You just," Jall choked, "You…you're…"  
"ARRGGHHH!" T'Parief snarled in anger, bringing another round of laughter from Jall, "FINE! You don't think I'm scary? I will show you scary!" He lept at Jall, only the element of surprise allowing him to knock the Ops Officer's borrowed reptilian body to the floor. Twisting his arm up, T'Parief quickly located the two tiny nubs behind the cranial ridges that would have been antennas on a floor blooded Andorian. Since T'Parief's body was only ¼ Andorians, the antennas had been reduced to small nodes.  
Small, sensitive nodes.  
He pushed.  
Jall screamed in pain, bucking T'Parief/Yanick off and gripping his head.  
"DEAR GOD!" he hollered, "WHAT DID YOU DO?"  
"Trade secret," T'Parief said, resuming his seat at the head of the table. "Now, tell me what I want to know."  
"OK," Jall said, defeated, "I was trying to get security logs from the locker room in the gym…."  
"What? Why?" T'Parief demanded, "Wait. No. Do not tell me. Just leave. NOW!"

The next several interrogations went pretty smoothly. Most officers and crew had more respect for ship's security that Jall, plus T'Parief had stationed Dar'ugal near the conference room door. Indeed, his biggest problem was something he had not expected.  
"Crewman Shwaluk," he said, gritting his teeth, "You will take your eyes off my, I mean, my girlfriend's breasts this instant or I shall have Ensign Dar'ugal fold you in half!"  
"Oh, uh right," Shwaluk forced his eyes up to meet T'Parief's gaze, "Um, what was the question?"

"Um, I've been too busy trying to get Vonna setup for her show," Gibson said, scratching his crotch.  
"You could have orchestrated this as a publicity stunt," T'Parief said, eyes narrowing.  
"Right. Did you not see me getting flattened under Jall's," Gibson scratched his head, "well, I guess it's your fat ass. But either was, I was flattened under it when that panel knocked him over! Do you think I'd want to send in something like that?"

"Why the hell am I here?" Stafford demanded, annoyed, "I ordered this investigation! What is the f**king point in interrogating ME?"

"You accessed internal sensor logs at 03:00 hours on Stardate 564598," T'Parief said, pacing behind the chair in which his current victim was seated.  
"I did," Fifebee replied calmly.  
"Why?"  
"I was," Fifebee said, "Attempting to track sabotage of my holo-relay. Somebody had tampered with it, causing me to take on the appearance of a Leprechaun."  
"03:00 hours is very early in the morning for such an investigation," T'Parief pointed out, turning to face Fifebee.  
"I don't sleep."  
"Oh," T'Parief deflated, "right. So, who did it, anyway?"  
"Ensign Simmons," Fifebee replied promptly, "If you check the logs, you'll see he entered Impulse Engineering and accessed my relay earlier that day."  
"Do you think," T'Parief asked, sitting down and leaning across the table towards Fifebee, "that his love of practical jokes would extend to sending footage of our crew into a comedy show?'  
"If he had," Fifebee replied, a small smile on her face, "you would know about it. The man is NOT capable of covering his tracks!"  
"Glorx," T'Parief cursed flatly. After a few moments of silence, "Did you get even with him?"  
"Indeed. I altered his favorite holodeck program so the Orion slave girls he had programmed would hold him down and pluck out his leg hairs, one at a time."  
"You're vicious," T'Parief said with a grin, "Wanna work in security?"  
"I think not, no."

Later in the evening, T'Parief slumped, exhausted, into a chair in Unbalanced Equations. His interrogations had revealed more immature pranks and stunts then he had ever thought possible. But nothing useful towards his investigation. He'd gone over the access logs for the internal sensors on Deck 9 more times than he could count. He'd had his staff go over the logs again. He'd had them analyzed in case somebody had tried to hide their tracks. But nothing.  
Captain Stafford sat in a nearby chair, drink in hand, staring out the window.  
"Captain," T'Parief started.  
"Don't talk to me," Stafford said softly.  
So, Stafford was still pissed about the Yvonnokoff thing. T'Parief couldn't blame him for that. But it was completely irrelevant to his investigation.  
Simon Jeffery/Wowryk sat down between T'Parief and Stafford, with the obvious intention of trying to cheer Chris up. After Stafford warned him off too, he sat awkwardly for a moment before turning to T'Parief.  
"So, while I'm here, anybody else need cheering up?" he grinned.  
T'Parief was silent for a moment.  
"I have," he said, turning to face Jeffery, "thoroughly gone over all our security records. I have interrogated those crewmembers prone to immature behavior. But there is no motive, except for Jall's desire to humiliate me. His alibi checks out, however. I cannot help but feel I have overlooked somebody."  
"Eh," Jeffery shrugged, "Why don't you ask Sylvia to help you out? She's been pretty good at keeping an eye on engineering stuff for me."  
"'Keeping an eye'?" T'Parief raised an eyebrow.  
"OK, she's a nag," Jeffery sighed, "She watches EVERYTHING! I can't leave a phaser inducer out of alignment without her pointing it out…hey!"  
T'Parief had suddenly stood and marched out of the lounge.

"Sylvia, I would speak to you now!" T'Parief called, pacing in his security office.  
"What can I do for you?" Sylvia asked, her face appearing on a wall display.  
"I wish for you to retrace your steps between Stardates 564595 and 564600," the security chief said, turning to face Sylvia, "I want to know if you accessed the internal sensors to Deck 9."  
"Honey," Sylvia sighed, "I AM the internal sensors! Of course I accessed them…constantly!"  
"And did anybody else?"  
"Just you," Sylvia replied, "And no, nobody has covered their tracks, or anything silly like that."  
"So nobody sent the recording into 'Federation's Funniest Vid-clips'?"  
"Of course somebody did," Sylvia said, "How else did it get there?"  
T'Parief grunted in frustration. Stupid machine. Circumlocutions, twisted answers. Damned machines never gave you anything unless you knew exactly what to ask.  
"Sylvia," T'Parief said slowly, "Did you send the vid-clip in?"  
"Yup."  
T'Parief snapped back to meet Sylvia's gaze.  
"Then why the hell didn't you say so before?"  
Sylvia gave a small smile.  
"You didn't ask."

Captain's Log, Stardate 56404.3  
"I'm not sure whether it's a good thing or not, but at least in some way, the name of Silverado has caught the attention of the Federation."  
"On the one hand, we, well, Jall/T'Parief and the marching band mostly, have been totally humiliated. Fortunately, because only one senior officer was involved Starfleet has pretty much said 'f**k it'. Besides, it's not like we were the only ship snagged in that damned thing. Still, between this incident and the whole 'U.S.S. S**tbox' thing we've generated our share of bad press. That can't be good. As far as what actions to take against the instigator that sent in the clip, well. We're kinda stuck on that one. We can't exactly throw her in the brig, and even if we could it probably wouldn't be a very suitable punishment. I've decided to start a file for her in our crew manifest, starting with this incident."  
"On the other hand, we've already received almost a thousand fan-mail transmissions for Counselor Yvonnokoff. Turns out 'The 'Vonna Show' is a huge hit. Her biggest audience appears to be middle-aged women eager for fresh gossip. Although we did get one message came from a Klingon male named 'Karthos' who praised her 'brusque manner' and asked for her hand, among other body parts, in marriage. Takes all types, I guess."  
"I'm somewhat displeased over Commander Noonan's decision to OK Counselor Yvonnokoff's plan. He may be technically correct in saying that crew assignments are part of his job, but dammit, this should have gone through me!"

"Sylvia," Stafford said, pacing in his ready room, "Switch me over to my personal log."  
"OK, Chris," replied the computer.  
"And try to stay out of trouble from now on," he admonished her.  
"OK, Dad," Sylvia teased.

Captain's Personal Log:  
"Somewhat displeased my ASS! What the hell was he thinking? That woman is a f**king quack and has about as much business running a counseling show as I do! How could he go behind my back like that? Did he think it would be funny? Did he just not care? What the f**k?"

"And on channel 2 we have 'Seth' from Waystation," Bart said cheerfully, "he's having problems attracting women."  
"Um, am I on?" came a nervous sounding voice.  
"Jas," Yvonnokoff said with a smile, "I am here."  
"Well, ya see Doc," 'Seth' went on, "I can't get any women. They just run away! In fact, you might know this one chick…she's a doctor on your ship, threw a beer mug at my head when I tried to get her into a threesome."  
Eva's smile became strained.  
"Have you tried NOT discussing sex vhen you are approaching a voman?" she asked.  
"What's the point?" 'Seth' asked, "There's no point in talking to women if you're not gonna get into their pants sooner or later!"  
"Seth, I don't like saying zis to a patient," Eva sighed, "But I cannot help you. You need therapy. Intensive therapy."  
"That's what my last counselor said," 'Seth' sighed, "Say, doc, I, uh, don't suppose you're single, huh? I hear your ship's gonna be passing though Waystation soon."  
"Zank you," Eva said, "But I'm not zhat desperate." She cut him off and turned to check her chrono.  
"And zhat is the end of our show today," Eva said, "Stay tuned tomorrow for more of your insecurities, psychoses and paranoid ravings here on 'Ze Vonna Show'.  
As the on-air light switched off, Stafford stepped into the small studio Noonan had helped setup on Deck 12.  
"Interesting broadcast," he said grimly, "I especially liked the Lieutenant from the Enterprise who was convinced Picard was a changeling."  
"Keptain," Eva said, nervous, "What can I do for you?"  
"Y'know," he said, "if you really wanted to do a show like this, why didn't you just ask me?"  
Eva looked at him.  
"I did not have ze plan to do ziz until Commander Noonan gave me ze idea," she said, "After he put me in touch vith Starfleet PR and ze Associated Worlds network zey showed great interest in ze idea and implemented it as soon as possible. I had no clue it vas without your permission."  
"Ya, I figured that our for myself," Stafford said, examining the holo-cam and recording equipment, "I guess asking for AWN to stop broadcasting the show is out the question?"  
"Starfleet Public Relations and myself 'ave entered a contract vith AWN."  
"Thought so," Stafford bit his lip, then sighed.  
"Just do me one favor," he said finally.  
"Jas?"  
"Stop telling everybody where your callers are from. The last thing we need is for the entire Federation to know which nutcases are on this ship.  
"Zat," Eva said with a grin, "I can do."

Tantalus 5 Mental Facility:

"Good morning, dear," Doctor Pascal said cheerfully as he entered his patient's room, "Sleep well?"  
"Oh, yes Doctor!" his patient replied cheerfully, "These down-filled comforters are just so soft! In fact, I think I'm going to upholster my ship with them when I get out of here!"  
"Uh, right," Pascal shifted his feet nervously. His goal in life was to turn the unstable, the slightly psychotic or the criminally insane into normal, happy members of Federation society. Although this patient was starting to really make him re-think the 'happy' part, he had to admit she was showing remarkable progress.  
"So," he said, "Why don't we start with those Vulcan calming mantras we learned last week?"  
"Oh," the woman pouted, her eyes framed by the large Klingon cranial ridges on her forehead, "I know they're for my own good, but Vulcan is such a boring language!"  
"Your review is coming up soon," he reminded her, "If you can demonstrate to the review board that you're a calm, happy member of society they may grant you an early parole."  
"Oh, very well," she closed her eyes and started chanting.  
Pascal smiled. K'Eleese was a strange Klingon, that was for sure. But with a little work, she'd be a harmless, happy person who wouldn't hurt a fly.

K'Eleese chanted the boring Vulcan words, mind intent on two things: Large, fluffy bunnies and galactic conquest.

End

Again, special thanks to Alan Decker and Anthony Butler for their contributions.

Next: Silverado pays another visit to Waystation to try to undue some of the damage they've done to Starfleet's image and to hopefully get their minds back where they belong. Stay tuned for Silverado 2.2: 'Back in Sight'.


	2. Back in Sight

Star Traks: Silverado

2.2 'Back in Sight'

"My mind to your minds….my thoughts to your thoughts….our minds are merging…our minds…are….ONE!"  
Lieutenant Sevkor chanted the traditional words as he completed the mind meld. Commander Noonan, who was watching the procedure, was very certain that the Vulcans put far too much drama into a mind meld. Honestly, when making a telepathic connection, how could chanting possibly help?"  
Sevkor was lying back on a sickbay bio-bed. Surrounding him were 4 other bio-beds on which Yanick/Stafford, T'Parief/Yanick, Jall/T'Parief and Wowryk/Jall were spread out. Sevkor had his hands touching the temples of Yanick and T'Parief. His boots were sitting on the floor and his toes were stretched out to make contact with Jall and Wowryk.  
"Somebody didn't wash his feet before we started," Jall complained, the arch of Sevkor's foot brushing against his nose.  
"Vulcans are one if the most hygienic races in the Federation," Sevkor said softly.  
"Doesn't smell like it to me!"  
"Please, be silent. I must complete the meld."  
Reluctantly, Jall shut his mouth.  
Sevkor began his chant again.  
Standing next to Noonan, Stafford/Jeffery resisted the urge to pace. The collection of bio-beds blocked off half of Sickbay. Fifebee was tapping at a console, monitoring the collection of sensors and monitors aimed at the multi-mind meld. The blue and green lights flickering on the consoles were a soft counterpoint to the dancing flames of the Vulcan candles scattered throughout Sickbay in what Sevkor claimed was a carefully planned, mathematically precise order.  
To Stafford, it just looked like a bunch of candles.  
All 5 meld participants gave a sharp gasp, and intoned together:  
"Our minds are one!"  
"That's the easy part," Fifebee said softly, "The question now is whether Sevkor can direct the minds to the correct bodies."  
"He is rated very high on the Vulcan telepathic scale," Noonan pointed out.  
"Right," Stafford said, "Which is why we've gotten this far. Melds with multiple people aren't exactly common."

As the hours passed, Stafford learned a new definition of boredom. He tried reading a book, checking the news, even typing out his log by hand. After he misspelled 'Katra' for the 4th time, he gave up. He couldn't bring himself to leave his officers in the grip of some kind of neural orgy.  
"Update?" he asked Fifebee.  
"No change," she said, her voice slightly sharper than it had last been. Tell-tale points growing on her ears told Stafford that one of her Vulcan personalities was in the lead at the moment, "I'm picking up high levels of neural activity, as before."  
The panel started beeping insistently.  
"That's a change!" Stafford accused.  
"Quiet, please, Captain," Noonan whispered.  
"The meld is destabilizing," Fifebee reported.  
"Fix it!" Stafford hissed quietly.  
"Captain," Fifebee snapped, "this isn't a piece of technology I can repair with the flip of a switch!"  
"But-"  
There was a sudden gasp from all five participants, then each relaxed. Sevkor struggled weakly to sit up. Stafford and Noonan were instantly at his side.  
"Are you all right?" Stafford asked.  
"We…I am fine," Sevkor said shakily.  
"Did you manage to-"  
"No," Sevkor turned to face Stafford, "You will recall I gave this plan little chance of success. What slim chance of success we had rested on the assumption that because the minds of the persons involved have been artificially moved I would be able to dislodge them more easily. However, that was not the case."  
"Well," Stafford said. He was silent for several moment, then, "That sucks.  
"Indeed. Now, please, I must rest."

"I understand how you feel, Captain", Admiral Edward Tunney said, his goateed visage displayed on Stafford's terminal, "But I really must insist!"  
"You must admit, Captain, the idea makes sense," added Noonan.  
"I know," Stafford replied, pacing in his ready room as his First Officer sat on the couch, "But it feels…dishonest."  
"That can't be helped," sighed Tunney, "And could you come back over here please? It's tough trying to talk to you when I can't see you on the screen!"  
Stafford spun the terminal around to face the room rather than the desk chair, the motion inducing a wave of dizziness in the Admiral.  
"But you're saying we can't tell ANYBODY?" Stafford repeated.  
"Right. Nobody. Starfleet, or otherwise."  
"But why?"  
Tunney sighed again.  
"Captain, I'm sure you're aware that since the launch, Silverado and Operation Salvage have made a few headlines."  
"Yes," Stafford said, cautiously.  
"Then you're probably also aware that most of those headlines have been," Tunney searched for the right word, finally giving up and going with the blunt version, "well, embarrassing."  
"So?" Stafford asked, throwing his arms up, "Lots of ships have had embarrassing situations. How about the ship that blew up the Peace Memorial of Arachonon because they thought it was a mutant alien spider?"  
Tunney winced.  
"Please don't remind me of that," he said, then more seriously, "The thing is, Captain, you're ship is part of a project that was conceived by President Dillon himself. There are a lot of people, both in Dillon's organization and among his opponents that are keeping a very close eye on you. If you continue to mess up, they'll use that against him."  
"We haven't screwed everything up!" Stafford objected, "Hello? SIDs? Planet crusher? Matrians?"  
"I know," Edward said, holding his hands up in the 'calm down' gesture, "And as I told you before, that was good work. But all the same, we really want to keep this whole body-switching thing as quiet as possible."  
"Which explains," Noonan said, "why Starfleet Public Relations requested that we do not accept calls for body switching problems on 'The Vonna Show' when production started."  
"Exactly," Tunney said, "Now, from your reports, you're not getting any closer to getting the situation resolved, am I right?"  
"You're right," Stafford sighed, "Fifebee's been working on it, but she hasn't found much."  
"Well," Tunney said, "Until you figure things out, it's best if you behave as though everything is normal. Starting with the ceremony on Waystation."  
"Ceremony?"  
"Oh, did I forget to mention that? Tunney asked, frowning as he shuffled through some padds.  
"Yes," Stafford said slowly, learning down to face the image of the Admiral, "What ceremony?"  
"Oh, nothing big," Tunney grumbled, "The Vice President just wants to acknowledge a job well done."  
Stafford made a face.  
"Why?" he asked, "I mean, it's great that we're getting recognition, but what's with this? I didn't even see a 'thank you' note for Picard when he defeated the Borg!"  
"Remember that whole 'publicity for the President's pet project' thing we just talked about?"  
"Oh," Stafford grimaced as he turned, "that."  
"Admiral," Noonan said, "Don't you think that some might find it suspicious that eliminating a very minor threat like the Matrians is worthy of public praise, while most starships get little or no thanks for saving the Federation from complete and total doom?"  
"Y'know," Tunney said, "I asked the exact same question. Y'know what I was told?"  
Stafford and Noonan waited expectantly.  
"'Anything in the name of PR'," Tunney finished.

Yawning, Stafford walked into Main Engineering for his daily inspection. With the ship still suffering severe damage from the battle with the Matrians, he had started dropping by Engineering every day to keep abreast of the situation. Until Silverado could get to a dry dock, her damaged engines couldn't exceed Warp 3.5 and she had a big hole in her starboard saucer.  
"Soooo," he said to Jeffery as he stepped around the central control console, "What's-AHHH!"  
Stafford tripped and tumbled to the hard floor, having not noticed the very short Ensign Frat Naketh as he hunched down, arm deep in an access port.  
"Second time this week," he commented as Stafford worked to pick himself up, "With all due respect, sir, watch where you're going!"  
"Sorry," Stafford grumbled, "I just seem to have trouble spotting midgets with bad attitudes."  
"Are ye done abusing my staff?" Jeffery/Wowryk asked, leaning against his office doorframe, "Or would ye perhaps like to try punting Frit across the shuttlebay?"  
"Bite me," Stafford muttered, "Anything new?"  
"Nay. There's nothing new today. There was nothing new YESTERDAY! There was NOTHING NEW LAST WEEK!" Jeffery turned to go back into this office, "I told ye, nothing is gonna change until we get to dry dock."  
"Don't be such a grouch," Stafford commented, following Jeffery.  
"Sorry. It's my, well, Dr. Wowryk's time of the month again."  
"Oh."  
"That, and this chastity belt is starting to chafe."  
"Too much information!" Stafford cried, flinching.  
There was silence for a few moments.  
"So," Jeffery said finally, not meeting Stafford's gaze, "we're gonna be at Waystation tomorrow."  
"Yup."  
"The Captain is quite a beauty, as I recall,"  
"She is," Stafford said, voice flat.  
"Didn't ye go for dinner?" Jeffery probed.  
"We did."  
"Ye gonna try to see her again?"  
"Nope."  
"Why not?" Jeffery exploded, "Ye've been moping around the ship for weeks! Ye need a woman in yer life, Chris, and a 10 minute roll in the sack with a Senousian doesn't count!"  
"She turned me down, remember?" Stafford pointed out, "The last thing I need is to give her the impression that I can't take a hint. Besides, the whole body-switching thing has been classified. She wouldn't even know it's me," he stopped pacing and turned back to Jeffery," And it was more than 10 minutes!"

Waystation

"Stardate 56521.3, U.S.S. Ranger," Craig Porter, Operations Officer of Waystation read from his padd, "Galaxy-class."  
"Docking arm 5," Commander Walter Morales replied from his Docking Control station. He and Porter were going over the advance docking assignments. Most ships didn't bother to let Waystation know they were coming, preferring to show up at the last minute demanding berths. Others, like Starfleet ships, were running on schedules set by Command and could easily book ahead.  
"Tholian freighter Leskart, class 4," Porter ticked off his list.  
"Docking port 10," Morales replied, keying the assignment into his panel.  
"The Dionysus, private yacht, civilian runabout,"  
"Docking Bay 7, slip C."  
"Stardate 56522.4, U.S.S. Silverado, Am-"  
"Ambassador-class," Morales groaned, "Them again? Why won't they leave us alone!?"  
"We've only seen them once, ever…" Porter pointed out.  
"Let's see," Morales said, "Last time they were here, our station was bombed, a nasty doomsday machine was stolen and they dumped organic waste all over our hull! Plus the chaos with their parts shipment and their lovely message after SOMEBODY, no names mentioned, got himself videotaped turning the hover-rink into carnage central!  
"That was an accident," Porter mumbled, turning back to his padd.  
"Docking Arm 3," Morales stabbed the entry into his panel.  
"Having fun?" Captain Beck asked as she stepped out of her office and started walking towards the turbolift.  
"Oh, tons," Morales muttered, "Guess who's coming to visit?"  
"Silverado." Beck said.  
"How did you-"  
"I just got off the comm with the Vice President," she said, "and now I have to go borrow a banquet hall from Mr. Auditmi.  
"What?"  
"The VP is on the Ranger. We've got to roll out the red carpet. To him, and to those 'other people'!" she stepped into the turbolift and allowed the doors to close.  
"I hope they don't trash the place again," Porter commented thoughtfully.

Arranging for a banquet hall was easy enough. Beck was able to deal with President Dillon. Compared to him, Mr. Auditmi, Dillon's acting CEO of Dillon Enterprises, was a piece of cake. Within minutes she had the use of Banquet Hall A. She turned to leave.  
"Captain," Auditmi asked before she could reach the door, "have you read the reports concerning Silverado's last mission?"  
"Nope," she said, "Can't say I really cared."  
"Starfleet classified the entire incident," Auditmi went on.  
"But you know what happened anyway," Beck said, nodding, "Good to know our security measures work so well."  
"I read the report BEFORE it was classified," Auditmi clarified, "As you know, neither myself or Dillon Enterprises would ever-"  
"Save it," Beck said, "Have a good day!"  
"But Captain," Auditmi started.  
"Look," Beck snapped, "You don't get it! I don't care! We've got hundreds of ships passing through this station, I have better things to do than worry about what one of them was up to!"  
She left the room.  
"Even if the Captain was reasonably cute," she muttered as the doors shut.

Silverado

"So, you gonna ask Captain Beck out again?" Trish Yanick grabbed a seat next to where Stafford was looking out the window, sipping from a steaming mug.  
"No, I am NOT!" Stafford said, turning to face her, "You're the 4th person to ask me that!"  
"Well, y'know," Yanick looked slightly uncomfortable, "you're both Captains, and I know you really like her. You went for dinner last time we were out this way…"  
"You make it sound like we had some great romance! I briefed her on the Matrians," Stafford said flatly, "Then her station was bombed and she told me not to call her."  
"Don't be discouraged," Trish put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "maybe she's playing hard to get!"  
"I doubt it," Stafford sat back down in his chair.  
Trish was quiet for a moment.  
"Y'know," she said finally, "Ms. Dreth has a really nice rack,"  
"The botanist in the arbo-" Stafford spun to face Yanick, "HEY! You're trying to play matchmaker!"  
"Well, kinda," Yanick admitted.  
"This isn't about Beck then! You're just trying to set me up with a woman. Any woman!"  
"Well, I'd be sure she was hot, at least," Yanick said, "Jall wanted to try setting you up with Crewman Borsk, but I didn't think you'd like the pustules on her-"  
"JALL?"  
"You've been such a grouch lately!" Yanick said, "Moping around like a lost puppy! Hanging out with the night crew, visiting Engineering every day….you're doing bachelor stuff!"  
"I am a bachelor!" Stafford objected.  
"You need to date," Yanick insisted, "You're not getting any younger. Don't you want somebody special in your life?"  
"I have nearly 800 special people in my life," Stafford said, "Y'know? Captain's responsibilities, and all that stuff?"  
"That's not the same," Yanick said, "You need companionship."  
"Hello! I got laid on Senous!"  
Yanick giggled.  
"15 minutes of companionship doesn't count!"  
Stafford turned red.  
"It was a lot more than 15 minutes!" he grumbled, shifting his weight.  
"Look," Yanick said, "I'll admit that T'Parief and I haven't been all that close, since he's in my body and I'm in yours, but I still don't know what I'd do without him to spend time with."  
"Look," Stafford said finally, "Dating and I don't get along. Period. End of story!"  
"I think you're making a big mistake," Yanick said.  
"Uh-huh. Can we change the topic now?"

Stafford wouldn't admit it to Yanick, but she was right. He needed to start dating.  
That realization wasn't anything new. He'd figured that out ages ago, before that final Matrian attack on Senous. But in the ensuing chaos he'd been forced to push most of his personal life onto the back burner.  
Lately though, his feelings of loneliness had returned. Obviously his crew was starting to notice if they were trying to hook him up.  
Normally, he'd head down to one of the now-functional holodecks and have a little fun. But with Sylvia's new sentient status, he felt very nervous about romancing even a hologram. Who knows what the computer could be watching, especially after she sent in a video of the Silverado crew engaging in drunken activities to a vid-show.  
Stafford's conscious train of though began to derail as he tried to pay attention to Yanick. Somehow, the subject had changed to the 'Purple Pony' art exhibit she'd gone to see on Andoria and from there to some purple-eyed Xenexian woman she'd gone drinking with back on her previous posting.  
Man, that girl could ramble!

The Operations deck of Waystation was bustling with activity, as normal. Commander Morales stood behind the Docking Control console, tapping at the controls as he helped guide ships and shuttles around the huge station's many docking facilities. Craig Porter was at Operations, monitoring a slight variation in the stations power core. Captain Beck was in her office and Lieutenant Commander Sean Russell was down in the Security Office in the Starfleet Square Mall. Looking out the windows that circled the Ops deck, one could see the upper surface of Waystation's upper saucer, along with over a dozen ships occupying the docking ports that extended from the saucers edge. Docking Arm 5 extended up from the saucer to where the U.S.S. Ranger sat floating gently in space, her gleaming hull dominating the view on that side of the station. As Porter watched, a small civilian runabout slipped past the Ranger, heading for one of the mammoth docking bays that sat atop the station.  
Waystation was shaped like a large spindle, or like a dumbbell sitting on one end. Essentially two Ambassador-class saucers connected by a shaft, the station dwarfed any starship built. Each of the two saucers making up the station had been extensively rebuilt and expanded. The lower saucer had been altered the least, to the external viewer, and still held the same shape as it had in it's previous incarnation as a starship. The only differences were the fact that it was now much, much bigger, and had been flipped upside down. The lower saucer contained residential decks, the Starfleet Academy Annex and various other living facilities.  
Moving up the station, up a long connecting shaft, one would come to the upper saucer. This saucer had undergone extensive renovations, becoming Waystation's commercial section. Docking ports extended from the outer saucer edge while several docking arms could be extended from the upper surface in order to accommodate larger vessels. Additional decks had been added to the upper saucer to support the Starfleet Square Mall and almost a dozen decks of commercial space. The top of this structure sported a ring of skylights, in the center of which was mounted the Operations module. The primary docking bays also extended from this section of the station. Both saucers featured upper and lower phaser rings and multiple quantum torpedo launchers, making Waystation the most heavily fortified outpost in the sector.  
"Silverado is requesting permission to dock," Morales reported," I'm sending them to Arm 3."  
"Isn't that the docking arm they ripped off the station last time?" Porter asked.  
"Yup."  
Looking again out the windows, Porter could see the old Ambassador-class ship easing up to the station. Last time he'd seen that ship, she'd looked good as new. Now, he could see hastily patched battle damage on the saucer and engineering hulls, a bite-shaped chunk missing from the saucer and a big hole in one warp nacelle.  
"Geez," he commented, "Looks like they had a rough ride!"  
"Some ship crews have a habit of getting into trouble," Morales said dryly.  
"Kinda like us?"  
"Shut it."

Captain Stafford was met at the airlock by possibly the most irritating breed of any species….the bureaucrat. The man proceeded to walk right past him and started shaking Yanick/Stafford's hand.  
"Captain Stafford, so good to meet you," the man said in a nasal voice, "Please, have your officers follow us so we can get the ceremony over with." He immediately turned and started walking down the tunnel through the docking arm to the station proper.  
"Play the part," Stafford/Jeffery muttered to Yanick/Stafford.  
"Oh, right," she said, "I can do this!" Trying to imitated Stafford's proper walk, Yanick pushed back her shoulders and started walking stiffly down the tunnel, looking as though she had something crammed up an unpleasant place.  
Stafford/Jeffery, T'Parief/Yanick, Wowryk/Jall, Jall/T'Prief, Jeffery/Wowryk, Fifebee and Noonan followed pace.  
"I do NOT walk like that!" Stafford muttered to himself.

The officers were rushed to the Starfleet Suites section of the station. Starfleet Suites was the name of the hotel and conference center run by Dillon Enterprises. Admiral Tunney was waiting in the antechamber.  
"Good, you're all here," he said, "Nice to meet you and all that. So here's how it's going to go: We're broadcasting in 15 minutes. I'll be up on the stage with Mr. Auditmi, Captain Beck and Vice President Heran Roloi. When the Federation Anthem starts to play, all of you walk up the aisle. The VP is going to make a quick speech, you exit stage left, and then the VP and I will finish up with a bit of a press conference. Any questions?"  
"Do we get to-" Stafford started.  
"No. Don't say anything. Just walk up, look pretty, then leave," As if to demonstrate, Tunney turned on his heel, then walked out of the room.  
"How do ya like that," Yanick complained, "we're, like, getting no credit for anything!"  
"Standard procedure," Noonan pointed out, "This whole deal is nothing but a publicity scam for Operation Salvage and President Dillon."  
There was silence for several minutes.  
"Where is Dillon, anyway?" Wowryk/Jall wondered, "I haven't seen anything about him in the news lately,"  
"Where's Jall?" Yanick/Stafford wanted to know, "He was just here…"  
"I'm still right here," Jall said, re-appearing at Yanick's side.  
"Where you were," Stafford asked, suspicious.  
"Oh, I was just arranging a little surprise for the VIPs out there," Jall said, a gleam in his/T'Parief's red eye.  
"What did you do?" Stafford demanded, "If you did something to embarrass us…"  
Stafford was interrupted by the sound of a trumped playing a fast, staccato beat. He exchanged glances with Noonan.  
"This isn't the Federation Anthem," he said. Up on the stage, Tunney and Beck were exchanged confused glances.  
"I think we better get walking," Noonan said.  
With Yanick/Stafford in the lead, the Silverado officers began walking in twos down the aisle. Jall was bobbing his/T'Parief's head to the beat, giving the reptilian officer's body an uncharacteristically rhythmic look.  
"Stop it," Wowryk/Jall muttered as she discreetly elbowed him in the side, "T'Parief would never walk that way." Reluctantly, Jall stiffened up.  
"Captain," Fifebee hissed behind Stafford, "We must walk faster,"  
"Why?" Stafford whistered back.  
"Because-" Fifebee was cut off as the lyrics started:

Late night Adonis  
Working after hours  
Ripples on my chest  
Never got a nights rest!

"Thissongistraditionallyplayedduringtheperformance ofamalestripper," Fifebee whispered as fast as possible.  
This took only seconds to register with Stafford.  
"Yanick!" he hissed, "Double time! NOW!"  
Following that command, the Silverado command crew jogged straight for the podium. Mercifully, the music stopped after they mounted the steps, before the lyrics could start again.  
"Fortunately," Fifebee whispered, "we did not make it to the verse regarding 'touching and squeezing'."  
"Thank God for that," Stafford whispered back.

"And, um, now, ladies and gentleman," the Vice President was saying, working to recover his decorum, "I'd like you to meet Captain Christopher Stafford and his officers. Not only did they discover a dangerous alien technology right in Earth orbit, they then proceeded to track down the source of that threat!"  
"That's not what happened," Stafford whispered to Noonan, "Nobody knew the Matrians were there! Starfleet picked our course at random!"  
"Through diplomacy and negotiation," the VP went on, "The crew of the Silverado peacefully resolved the situation with the Matrians, leading to a new era of understanding between out peoples."  
" Diplomacy? We blasted their fleet," T'Parief muttered, confused, "And a Senousian destroyed their way of life!"  
"…and so, on behalf of the Federation, I say thank you," the Vice President applauded. The assembled reporters and such politely followed suit.  
Tunney and Beck promptly escorted Stafford and crew off the stage while the VP continued talking.  
"Now, if anybody has any questions regarding Operation Salvage, I'd be happy to…"

"What the hell was that?" Yanick whined, "We stood there for 2 minutes while some guy told a bunch of lies about us!"  
"What were you expecting?" grumbled Jall, "A fruit and cheese basket?"  
"I thought we were getting a thank you!" Yanick cried, "Instead we got the 'wham, bam, thank you officer'!"  
"It's politics, Trish," Stafford sighed, "they really don't care about us. It's all about Dillon's stupid project."  
"That sucks," Yanick crossed her arms and pouted.

Daphne Nicholson eased out of the banquet hall close on the tail of the Silverado officers. Covering the Silverado thing wasn't exactly her choice assignment. Unfortunately, Joan Redding had pulled seniority on her so she could go cover the Galactic Beach Volleyball Championship on Pacifica.  
Vice President Roloi's mention of 'diplomacy and negotiation' had immediately created several questions in Jolene's mind, mostly because she had taken a look at Silverado herself before the conference. Ships didn't have pieces blasted off during peaceful negotiations! Something was up.  
Watching carefully, Daphne noticed something odd; the Silverado officers were acting nothing like their personnel records had indicated. The Captain was whining like a little girl and the engineer was snapping orders. As she watched, the large, reptilian security chief put his hands on his hips, defending his choice of music.  
Music?  
Daphne was wondering what had happened to the Federation Anthem. She had only recognized the replacement song because she and her sorority sisters had taken a trip to Risa as soon as they graduated high school. But for a Gorn/Klingon/Andorian to program a stip song into a press conference?  
Something was definitely wrong with this crew.

After taking a turbolift down from the Starfleet Suites, Dillon's hotel complex, the Silverado officers found themselves on the upper level of the Starfleet Square mall. Looking down, they could see the food court and the hover rink along with various shops and stands. Despite the name, the mall was actually ring-shaped, circling the interior of the upper saucer. The Mall complex was located in the expanded upper saucer, close to the main docking bays. Looking up, past several decks of one-way windows that hid the doings of Dillon Enterprises from the general public, skylights looked out into space. To her left and right Yanick could see nothing but storefronts, disappearing as the curve of the mall hid them from sight.  
"Y'know," she said to Stafford, "last time we were here, I never did get the full shopping experience…"  
"Me neither," Wowryk added.  
"How do ya plan on trying stuff on when you don't have your own bodies?" Jall asked with a grin. Standing behind their girlfriends, T'Parief/Yanick and Jeffery/Wowryk started frantically shaking their heads, gesturing for Jall to please, for the love of God, SHUT THE HELL UP!"  
Their protests went unnoticed.  
"That's a good point," Wowryk said thoughtfully. She turned to T'Parief and Yanick, "C'mon, boys."  
"Do we get a choice in this?" Jeffery asked weakly.  
"NO!" snapped Wowryk and Yanick.  
"This is gonna be so much fun!" Yanick squealed, "I get to see what I'll look like in all those cloths! I can dress myself up, try different fashions, be sure my butt doesn't look too fat…"  
"Please," T'Parief muttered to Stafford, "Kill us now."  
"I dunno girls," Stafford said, "It's gonna be hard for you to stay in character…"  
The expressions on Yanick/Stafford and Wowryk/Jall's faces left little room for discussion.  
"Fine!" Stafford conceded, "Go nuts."  
"Hey, what's going on down there?" T'Parief asked, pointing over the railing to the main level.  
A mob of shoppers were converging on one individual, waving pads and styli frantically, begging for autographs. In the center of the mess, working to free herself, was Counselor Eva Yvonnokoff.  
"I guess her show was well-received," Noonan commented.

Everybody split off, going their separate ways; the ladies went straight for the Klingon formal wear shop, Stafford towards the food court, and Noonan and Fifebee off to wander the mall.  
Stafford was sitting at a seat near the entrance to the Andorian Restaurant, munching on something unidentifiable from 'Sandwich or What?'. Next time, he decided, he'd try the 'sandwich' as opposed to the 'what'.  
He was just about finished his meal when Captain Beck stormed out of the turbolift, Commander Morales and Lieutenant Commander Porter in tow.  
"I can't believe those people," Beck fumed, "All that fuss over a little two-bit empire!"  
Easing carefully behind a potted plant, Stafford strained to listen in.  
"Y'know," Porter said, "It's not their fault that Dillon-"  
"I'm not talking about the Silverado people!" Beck replied stopping by the restaurant entrance, "I'm talking about the politicians! Making such a big deal out of Dillon's little pet project! You'll notice that they never mentioned who took command of Silverado when Stafford was knocked out!"  
"They didn't mention who fried her power conduits either," Morales said with a slight grin, referring to Lieutenant Commander Russel, Waystation's Chief of Security.  
"The whole thing is a pile of political bulls**it," Beck sighed.  
"Judging from the looks on their faces," Morales said, "the Silverado folks agree with you."  
"Yeah," Beck agreed, "it's not their fault."  
Stafford smiled to himself. Good to see that the relationship between his crew and Waystation would remain properly cordial and professional.  
"So are we gonna, y'know, talk to them?" Porter was asking, "They did invite us to that party they had before they left."  
"Reception," Beck corrected, "And yeah, I'm going to go have a chat with the Captain now. Treat them like any other starship crew, just don't give the feeling they're anything special."  
"Gotcha," Porter grinned, "Try to go easy on the Captain!"  
Beck looked annoyed.  
"He's cute, OK?" she admitted, glancing quickly at Morales, "But not THAT cute!"

"Cute, huh?" Stafford/Jeffery muttered to himself, hiding as he was behind the plant, "Well, Captain Beck, maybe I just will say hi after all…"  
"Captain Stafford!" whispered a quiet voice.  
"What?" Stafford jumped and spun around," Um, nay," he started plastering on a fake accent, trying to mimick Jeffery, "Ah yam Simon Jeffery…Ah yam jeyust having me self a bit of-"  
"Please, Captain," smirked the intruder. He was taller than even Stafford's regular body, with shoulders like an ox. His head was shaved bald, and he was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, "I know perfectly well who you really are."  
"What do you want?" Stafford asked carefully, all thoughts of Beck gone as he contemplated the damage the huge man's fists could do.  
"Somebody wants to talk to you," replied the stranger.  
"OK," Stafford said, stepping carefully back, "where is he?"  
"Not here. Come with me."  
"Um, no," Stafford was getting pretty nervous now, "I'm not going God-knows-where with you!"  
Looking around carefully, Stafford's visitor leaned in to whisper even more softly.  
"This concerns a solution to your current…dilemma."  
"Ohhhh…." Stafford quickly weighed the odds of being severely beaten and compared them to how good it would be to be back in his own body.  
"Lead the way!"

Stafford followed the suited giant, who identified himself as 'Gary', into one of the turbolifts on the inner side of the mall. The lift shifted towards the center of the station, then dropped straight down. Stafford assumed they were traveling down the connecting tube to the lower saucer.  
The doors snapped open, revealing a nondescript corridor, identical to any other section of the station. Unlike Silverado, which had suffered a minor error during reconstruction, Waystation's corridors matched, no matter what deck you were on. Gary led Stafford down the curving corridor to a small cargo bay.  
"Nice to meet you again, Captain," a short, Zakdorn male emerged from behind one of the cargo containers.  
"You!" Stafford laughed, relieved, "I know you! You're Mr. Checkmi. Or Mr. Lookitmi. Or something like that…"  
"Mr. Auditmi," replied Auditmi, annoyed.  
"Yeah! I remember you! Build any new doomsday devices lately?"  
"That device," Auditmi said tightly, "was meant to advance Federation science. It was NOT a doomsday device!"  
"Right. Tell that to the walnut-sized lump of rock about 5 light-years from here-"  
"Captain, do you want my help or not!" Auditmi snapped.  
"Oh, right," Stafford refocused, "What kinda help?"  
"With your body-switching problem," Auditmi replied.  
"How do you know about that anyway?" Stafford asked.  
"I read the report."  
"That report was classified!" Stafford objected, "Good to know our security measures-"  
"I read it BEFORE it was classified! Why does-" Auditmi stopped to take a deep breath, "Do you want my help or not?"  
"Yeah, that would really be great," Stafford said, "Between leg shaving, glitter and nail polish, I need to get my body back and away from Yanick as soon as-" Stafford's eyes bugged out as he gasped.  
"Yanick! Oh God! Beck is going to talk to me, but she doesn't know it's Yanick! She's gonna-" Stafford stood to leave. Gary planted a meaty hand on his shoulder and forced him back down.  
"We're not done," Auditmi said.  
"But…" Stafford trailed off, "You're right, this is more important."

Krilik's Klingon Formal Wear Shop

T'Parief/Yanick sighed as he stepped out of the dressing room. He was wearing a blood red steel bustier coupled with a skirt of steel plaits. Yanick's breasts were pushed up uncomfortably high. From the dressing room next door, Jeffery/Wowryk was struggling to don a more conservative Huq'Dakar-fur coat.  
"Oh!" Yanick/Stafford said happily, clapping her/Stafford's hands and electing strange looks from other shoppers, "That looks SOO sexy! Twirl!"  
"Huh?"  
"Turn around!" Yanick said, twirling her finger in the air, "let me see the whole thing!"  
Obediently, T'Parief started turning.  
"I don't know," Wowryk said, "that skirt is a bit short…"  
"But I, um, she," Yanick corrected, "has the legs for it!"  
"It's not proper!" Wowryk insisted.  
"Noel," Yanick said, hands on hips, "what did we agree?"  
Wowryk blew out a frustrated breath.  
"That I wouldn't lecture you on proper lady's dress and that you wouldn't drag me into Nandegar's Secret,"  
"Right!" Yanick said triumphantly, adding under her breath, "Like I wanna see Breen lingerie anyway!"  
"Pardon?"  
"Oh look!" Yanick pointed, "There's Jef, um, Dr. Wowryk!"  
"I feel ridiculous!" Jeffery grumbled, draped as he was from head to toe in the thick, warm coat, "It's too warm! Why can't I wear something sexy, like T'Par- um, Yanick?"  
"Because I said so!" Wowryk snapped, "Now go get the hat!"  
"Next outfit!" Yanick said happily.  
"But this is the third one!" T'Parief objected.  
"Right. So?"  
"So haven't you made up your mind yet?"  
"After three outfits?" Yanick laughed, "Puh-leeze! We've gotta go though at least a dozen more. Stop whining!"  
"I am not whining!" T'Parief/Yanick objected.  
"C'mon! I've lived with that voice for over 20 years, I know when it's whining!"  
Grumbling, T'Parief trudged back into the dressing room.  
"I must say," Krilick, the store owner commented, "I have rarely seen males so assertive in a shopping environment. Most males cower in fear while the females bark commands!"  
"If only you knew," muttered Wowryk.

Beck strode into Krilik's, finding Stafford and one of his officers browsing through the merchandise. Taking a quick breath, she approached him.  
"Welcome back to Waystation," she said, smiling.  
"Captain Beck!" Yanick/Stafford exclaimed, "Hi! How ya doin! Wow, you look great! Did you change your hair?"  
"Um, yeah, I did actually," Beck replied, somewhat taken aback by Stafford's enthusiasm.  
"Wow! It looks SOO good! Oh, and, I'm, y'know, really sorry about the damage I caused here last time."  
Beck shrugged.  
"It's in the past," she said finally, "I just hope whoever's piloting on the way out remembers to disengage the docking clamps!"  
"Oh yeah," Yanick/Stafford giggled, "I'll make sure I do that!"  
"You pilot the ship now?" Beck asked, one eyebrow raised.  
"Yup! And I'm dating the Chief of Security, and-"  
"Woah, hold on," Beck said, her smile sliding off her face, "Isn't your Security Chief the big lizard-looking, um, GUY?"  
"Yeah," Yanick/Stafford sighed, "I know, we've got some things to work out. But he's really a good guy, underneath all the scales."  
"I bet," Beck was quiet for a moment, "Well, I guess dinner is out of the question then!" she forced out a laugh, sounding false even to her.  
"Naw," Yanick/Stafford said, "Just cuz I'm seeing somebody it doesn't mean I can't hang around with the girls!"  
"No, really," Beck started backing out of the shop, "It's fine! I gotta go. I just remembered that the…um, Ops rotation motivators are being upgraded today. Gotta be there! Enjoy your stay!" Beck left quickly.  
"What was that about?" T'Parief/Yanick asked, emerging from the dressing room in a resplendent red gown.  
"Captain Beck wanted to ask me for dinner," Yanick said, frowning, "but she changed her mind."  
"She probably thought you were Captain Stafford."  
"Oh, s**t," Yanick gasped, "Chris is going to be SOOOO pissed at me!"

Beck walked quickly down the mall concourse, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Porter, chatting it up with Lieutenant Fifebee, excused himself to walk alongside Beck.  
"So?" he asked, "Did he hit on you again?"  
Beck looked at Porter, opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again.  
"Remember how I turned him down the last time he was here?" she finally asked.  
"Yeah,"  
"I think I made him gay!"

"So you really think you can help us?" Stafford was asking Auditmi.  
"No!" Auditmi snapped, "I dragged you down here to an out of the way cargo bay just to mess with your head! YES, I think I can help you!"  
"Why?"  
"Because," Auditmi replied through clenched teeth, "you helped me with a problem I was having several months ago. I want to return the favor. Also, President Dillon would want this resolved before it can reflect badly on his project."  
"That makes sense. So what's your plan?"  
"Dillon Enterprises has been…examining the data on the Matrian Spatial Interphase Devices. We've got a pretty good handle on how the device integrates itself with the rest of the network, but we don't have-"  
"You sound like my science officer," Stafford complained, "could you cut to the chase?'  
"Fine. We can use the SID on your ship along with a special neural interface technology we've been developing to return you all to your own bodies."  
"Sounds good!" Stafford said happily, jumping to his feet, "When can we start?"  
Gary slammed him back into the chair.  
"What we need," Auditmi said, "is a 'controlling entity'. I understand the SID won't properly recreate the virtual reality without some kind of controller."  
"Oh yeah," Stafford said, "We know. We can handle that."  
"Good," Auditmi said, "Once in the virtual reality, the controlling entity should be able to open 'doorways' to the interfaces on the various bodies. Your minds can then use the doorways to return home."  
"Sweet!"

Dr. Amedon Nelson sat in the food court of the Starfleet Square Mall when she noticed an unfamiliar officer walking by. Pale and slim with jet-black hair, he looked very young to be wearing Commander's pips. Noticing her gaze, he proceeded to her table.  
"Dr. Nelson," he said, his voice calm and smooth, "It's a pleasure to see you again."  
"Do I know you?"  
"Commander Noonan, U.S.S. Silverado," Noonan replied with a smile, "We met several months ago."  
"Oh right," Nelson said, "the weirdo! I remember now."  
"Weirdo," Noonan looked thoughtful, "close enough. May I join you?"  
"I guess," Nelson gestured at the seat across from her, "What can I do for you?"  
"I was," Noonan said, "hoping to ask you about your symbiont."  
"Midon?" Nelson shrugged, "OK. What do you wanna know?"  
"I'm mostly interested, "Noonan said, "In how you feel the inclusion of Midon has impacted your personality."  
Nelson shrugged again.  
"Well," she said, "Midon's personality merged with my own. The resulting personality was a blending of the two of us, some traits coming from Amelia, others coming from Midon. Why are you so interested?"  
"I am," Noonan searched for the correct phrase, "in a similar situation."  
"You have a symbiont?"  
"No. But I am joined, in a sense."  
Nelson frowned.  
"I've never heard of anybody being joined without a symbiont," she said.  
"I'm part of a larger life-force, you could say," Noonan said carefully, "One of the great mysteries of my people is how much this other life-force changes who we are. Some have spent centuries trying to learn about themselves."  
"Fascinating," Nelson said, "Medically speaking. I'd love to learn more about this 'life-force'. It could possibly even be connected to my studies of joining and the Brakto in general-"  
Noonan sighed, realizing he wasn't going to learn anything useful from Nelson.  
"Doctor Nelson," he intoned, reaching out with his mind, "You will forget I was ever here…"

Stafford and his officers had returned to Silverado, following several hours of shopping. Jeffery and T'Parief slouched in their seats, exhausted, while Wowryk and Yanick kept comparing their purchases.  
"OK, everybody's attention please," Stafford called.  
No response.  
"HEY, I'M TALKING HERE!"  
Everybody turned to look at him.  
"All right," he said, "I had a little chat with Mr. Auditmi today. Dillon Enterprises has a plan, unofficially, to return us to our own bodies."  
"YES!" screamed T'Parief.  
"I agree," Wowryk said calmly.  
Stafford quickly outlined the plan, then turned to Fifebee and slid an isolinear data chip across the table to her.  
"This outlines their plan."  
"I'll review this tonight," Fifebee promised.  
"Problem," Noonan pointed out, "How are we going to get 300 crewman and a Matrian SID into Dillon Enterprises?"  
"It would make more sense for them to come here," Jeffery pointed out.  
"They've got some specialized equipment that can't be moved," Stafford said, "Plus, they've already got a facility prepped for this."  
"We need a diversion," T'Parief pointed out.  
"I've already given that some thought," Stafford said, "Now we just need to talk to Counselor Yvonnokoff…"

The next afternoon, Beck was just coming off-duty from Operations, ready for a hot v'haspant as she arrived at the Starfleet Square Mall, heading for her favorite Andorian restaurant. The mall though, was abnormally crowded, with beings of all descriptions rushing down the concourse.  
"Beck to Jones,"  
"Jones here," replied the liaison officer, "what can I do for you, Captain?"  
"Is there something happening on the mall I should know about? It's getting pretty crowded in here."  
"Umm," Beck could hear tapping as Jones went through her events listing, "Nope, nothing today."  
"Thanks, Beck out."  
Curious, Beck followed the throng of people. As they came around the curve in the mall concourse, she saw a huge crowd had gathered in front of the AWN offices. Primarily made up of middle-aged ladies, the crowd included beings of all races and genders. Almost everybody had a personal communicator of some sort gripped firmly in one hand.  
"What's going on?" Beck asked one woman, decked out in a huge, flowery dress.  
"They're broadcasting 'The Vonna Show', live! RIGHT FROM WAYSTATION!" the woman said excitedly, "Oh, I hope my call goes through!"  
Beck quickly recalled what she could about the Associated Worlds Network public office. One thing she could remember was that there was a small broadcast studio, separated from the mall concourse by a panel of transparent aluminum."  
"Beck to Russel,"  
"I'm a bit busy here, Captain," came Security Chief Russel's voice, "We've got a bit of a crowd-control situation.."  
"I noticed. Is there a particular reason why we weren't informed of this broadcast?"  
"I dunno," Russel said, "but my team and I are on top of things. We're on the upper level, keeping an eye on what's happening."  
There was a roar from the front of the crowd, quickly spreading.  
"Russel!" Beck yelled, straining to be heard, "What's happening!"  
"Vonna's in the studio!" Russel yelled back, "And damn! She's HOT!"

"AWN has started the broadcast," Noonan reported, " Between Yvonnokoff's fans and our non-switched crew, Waystation's commercial levels are in chaos."  
"That should keep Beck busy for a while," Stafford said.  
"How the hell did Yvonnokoff get so popular so fast?" Yanick wondered.  
"AWN has an excellent marketing branch," Fifebee commented.  
"Let's go!"

All 300 men and women who had been involved in the venture into the Matrian Dreamland that resulted in rampant body-switching squeezed through the docking arm and down into Waystation. Bypassing the now chaotic commercial decks, they slipped into the docking facilities. Yanick was bringing up the rear as the last of the crew made their way into a back entrance to the Research and Development wing of Dillon Enterprises.  
"Captain Stafford," came an official sounding voice, "would you please explain to the Federation what really happened when you were in Matrian space?"  
Spinning around, Yanick found herself face to face with Daphne Nicholson, followed closely by a Latino man wearing a camera headset. Jolene shoved a microphone under Yanick/Stafford's face, looking expectantly at Yanick.  
"No comments!" Yanick called out, backing towards the door.  
"Isn't it true that Starfleet is covering up a mind-altering incident that occurred during that mission?"  
"NO!" Yanick called, frantically looking around for help. The last crewman had already entered Dillon Enterprises, leaving Yanick on her own, "Uh, everything is in the report!"  
"That doesn't explain the unusual behavior of you and your senior officers," Daphne went on, looking towards the camera, "In fact, one would suspect that…" Daphne trailed off, realizing that when she had turned her back, Yanick/Stafford had bolted, sealing the door behind her.  
"Damn," cursed Nicholson, "C'mon, Gomez, we'll try again later."

"Meet Professor Glorx," Auditmi introduced, gesturing to an imposing Tellarite wearing a white lab coat, "He'll be supervising the procedure."  
"Nice to meet you," Stafford gave a small wave.  
"Professor," Fifebee stepped forward, "Jane Fifebee, Science Officer. Regarding your neural interface, where did you-"  
"I'm sorry," Auditmi cut in, "but our sources and research information are strictly confidential."  
"But it looks like Borg tech-"  
"Nothing to worry about," Glorx assured everybody, giving a pig-like snort, "We hook you up to the gadgets, hook the gadgets into the SID and the rest is up to you."  
"Ready, Doc?" Stafford asked Wowryk.  
"To get my own body back? Let me think. YES!" Wowryk sat on the nearest bed, yanked the interface helmet over her head and lay back on the bed, crossing her arms.  
"Let's do this."

Once everybody was ready, Fifebee, under Glorx's supervision, activated the SID. Simultaneously, every crewman on each of the 300 beds let out a long breath and went limp.  
"Interface is stable," reported one of Glorx's assistants.  
"SID core matrix is functioning normally," called another.  
"Oh, good," Glorx sighed.  
"You look relieved," Fifebee commented.  
"Well, there was a 35% chance that the interface would cause a feedback loop in the SID matrix, scrambling the neurons of everybody connected."  
"I see," Fifebee frowned, "And you didn't feel it necessary to warn the Captain?"  
"No reason to make him worry."

Once again, T'Parief found himself standing in the featureless, white expanse of an inactive Matrian Dreamland.  
Somewhere, he knew, Dr. Wowryk would be marshaling her feminine powers, taking control of the SID and establishing herself as the controlling Mistress. Even as he thought this to himself, the empty whiteness flooded with colour: a dark, cloudy sky, wet, muddy soil, a ring-shaped moat.  
And, in the center of it all, the towering spires of Castle Wowryk.  
"Here we go again," T'Parief muttered as he was whisked away.

"This AGAIN?" Jall moaned, crossing his skinny arms, "can't you do something more original."  
Wowryk flipped her hair back with a regal gesture.  
"It reminds me," she said, "of a play set I had as a child."  
"HEY!" Yanick squealed happily, "I'M ME!"  
Together, Jeffery and T'Parief reached for their groins, giving simultaneous sighs of relief:  
"Oh, thank GOD!"  
"We're not finished yet," Stafford said, "We need to actually get back to our own bodies now…"  
"I'm on it," Wowryk said. She closed her eyes, focusing hard.  
In the middle of a featureless wall, a doorway appeared. Unlike the other doors in the castle, a glowing, blood-red frame surrounded this one. A gentle, rhythmic breathing could be heard on the other side of the wall.  
"Well, it's a start," Stafford muttered, 'Let's see where it goes…"  
Stafford opened the door and stepped through.

Yanick's body sat up in the lab, eyes blinking rapidly.  
"Where am I?" she asked.  
"Ensign Yanick?" Fifebee asked, rushing over, "Is it you?"  
"F**k," Stafford/Yanick muttered.  
"I guess not," Fifebee laughed.  
"Please send me back," Stafford begged.  
"Of course."

After a few moments, the door re-opened and Stafford stepped out.  
"Good new, and bad news," he said.  
Everybody waited expectantly.  
"We can switch bodies."  
Cheers rose from the entire main chamber of the castle. Finally, they quieted.  
"And the bed news?" Wowryk asked calmly.  
"That wasn't my body," Stafford said glumly. He turned to Yanick, "I think you want this one."  
"Goody!" Yanick squealed, running for the door.  
"One down, 300 to go," Jeffery muttered.  
Wowryk closed her eyes and concentrated. Her breathing became labored; sweat breaking out across her features. She let out a sharp gasp, then a long, drawn out grunt, like a body-builder trying to lift that barbell one more inch.  
Or somebody with severe constipation, whichever you prefer.  
One by one, doors starting appearing throughout the castle…in the corridors, along the edges of the throne room, behind tapestries and even one or two in the floor. Everywhere one look, there was another door. Each had the same wooden finish and glowing frame. Only some frames were glowing with a gentle blue light while others were red. Each door also had a long sting of characters printed in white lettering.  
Wowryk collapsed into the throne, gasping and straining.  
"HURRY UP!" she grunted, "I can't keep them open forever!"  
"Find a door!" Stafford ordered, "Figure out whose body it is, come back here and find them!"  
"What are the numbers for?" Jeffery wondered.  
"Neural interface identifiers," Wowryk gasped.  
"Did anybody memorize those?" Jeffery wondered.  
"F**k it!" Stafford snapped, "Find your body!"

Over the course of the next half hour, Silverado crewmembers ran about in a scene of near chaos, opening doors, jumping through and more often then not returning in seconds. Whenever a body was 'occupied', the associated door would lock, allowing nobody else in until that person returned. Of course, as everybody started locating the correct bodies, the number of people in the Dreamland dropped, and the number of locked doors increased.  
Stafford located the door to his own body in one of the castles huge kitchens, hovering over an open garbage pit in one corner. Ensign Buck had found the door and had told Stafford exactly where to find it. Standing in front of it, Stafford contemplated just how nice it would be to be to be back is his own tall, fit body. The blue frame around his door glowed warmly, and the sound of his body's own breathing could be faintly heard.  
Sighing, Stafford turned away from the door, returning to the throne room.

"Half the crew has returned to their own bodies," Fifebee reported.  
"Excellent," Glorx replied, looking through the transparent aluminum window from the control room into the large lab that had been fitted to hold the Silverado crew, "It's only a matter of time now,"  
"Dr. Wowryk is weakening," Fifebee pointed out, "She may not last long enough."  
At that moment, the door to the lab hissed open and Daphne Nicholson stormed in, followed by her cameraman.  
"AH-HAH!" she snapped triumphantly, stabbing her microphone accusingly at Fifebee, "I KNEW IT! Something's up with you people!"  
"Glorx to secure-"  
The scientist's call for help was cut off as Daphne twitched a finger, sending a stun blast from an emitter hidden in her microphone to the center of the scientist's chest.  
"HA! I win! You lose!" Daphne laughed. She collected herself, visibly working to return to her 'calm reporter' persona.  
"Lieutenant Fifebee," she said finally, a wide smile on her face, "could you explain what's happening?  
"No," Fifebee said bluntly.  
"Surely you can see that the people of the Federation have the right to know the truth!"  
Fifebee was silent for a moment.  
"So, now that you've had a moment to think about it," Daphne said, impatient, "What's happening here?"  
"I wasn't thinking," Fifebee said, annoyed, "I was calculating how many times the press has intruded into delicate situations that were none of their business for the sake of 'the truth'. I can assure you that what's happening here doesn't impact the citizens of the Federation in any way and is non of their concern."  
"You don't get to decide that!" huffed Nicholson.  
"Actually," Fifebee said, "Because this is a classified Starfleet matter, I not only have the right but the duty to forcibly eject you from the premises, destroy all recordings you have made and to warn you that any attempt to discuss what you've seen here will result in immediate incarceration. I warn you that I possess several personalities, many of which can be quite violent."  
"And can you tell me why this matter was classified, Lieutenant?" Daphne said sweetly.  
"THAT'S IT!" Fifebee hollered, cranial ridges erupting from her forehead as she summoned the personality of Chief Scientist P'Tang of the Klingon Imperial Academy, "FILTHY PATAK!"  
Giving a roar, Fifebee launched herself at the startled reporter. Reaching out to the cameraman, Fifebee yanked the holo-cam off his head, smashing it to the ground. She then focused her attention on Daphne. While the P'Tang personality wanted to snap her neck, the Fifebee personality was still marginally in control. Fifebee reached for the reporter's long, reddish hair and pulled.  
"BITCH!" screamed Nicholson, grabbing a handful of Fifebee's black hair and pulling hard.  
Nothing happened.  
"Did I mention that holographic hair doesn't care if it's pulled?" Fifebee snarled, slamming Daphne's head into the floor, "Now GET…" Fifebee slammed her head down to emphasize each word,"….OUT…YOU…NOSEY…BITCH!"  
Daphne responded by jabbing her fingers into Fifebee's eyes. The holographic eyeballs took no damage, but Fifebee's visual systems were disrupted just long enough for the reporter to climb to her feet. She aimed her microphone straight at Fifebee and thumbed the tiny firing stud.  
The beam passed through Fifebee, impacting the Matrian SID on the far wall. Sparks began to fly as red warning lights popped up on control panels all over the room.  
The time for fighting had passed. Fifebee, T'Pang personality fully repressed, programmed her emitter to project her right next to Daphne. Before the reporter could utter a protest, Fifebee knocked her out with a single sharp blow.  
"Why didn't I do that the first time?" the hologram sighed as she tackled the beeping control panel.

Within Dreamland, the effects of Daphne 's phaser blast were felt immediately as the Dreamland started to destabilize.  
Wowryk, hunched on the throne, gave a sharp gasp of pain as the castle trembled. From the dark storm clouds above, lightening began to dance, striking the castle, the ground and the trees, illuminating the scene in a series of brilliant flashes.  
"The Dream Machine has been damaged!" Wowryk gasped, "The Dreamworld is collapsing! We need to get everybody out…NOW!"  
"Jall found Wowryk's door," Stafford said, "It's on the upper level, in the chapel!" He and Jeffery had stayed with Wowryk in case something went wrong. Which it did, of course.  
"Did anybody find mine?" Jeffery asked.  
"Weren't you looking for it?" Stafford demanded.  
"Ah couldn't leave Noel!"  
"Dammit!" Stafford snapped, "Noel, how many are left?"  
"20," she gasped, "they'll be out soon. We need to go, now!"  
Stafford eased one of her arms over his shoulder, Jeffery the other. Together, they started guiding Wowryk towards the stairs.  
The castle trembled again, sending the trio staggering. Rain began pouring down in sheets, pounding against the castle roof, flooding in from open balconies and windows.  
Thankful that Noel's fantasy castle had the chapel close to the throne room, Stafford and Jeffery eased her down in front of a brilliantly pulsing red-framed door.  
"OK," Jeffery yelled, fighting to be heard over the constant thunder, "Get her out!"  
"She can't leave until we're gone!" Stafford shouted, "She's all that's holding this place together!"  
"Find your door!" Wowryk gasped to Jeffery, "I'll know when you're safe!"  
"Ah'm not leaving here without you!" Jeffery insisted.  
Stafford grabbed him by the arm and started hauling him down the corridor.  
"Enough with the cheesy romance!"

The tried over a dozen doors, all of them locked, before Stafford realized they needed a better plan.  
"It's her sub-conscious!" he realized, "She put her door in the chapel, Yanick's door closest to her throne, my door in the garbage pit!" He turned to Jeffery, "If Wowryk unconsciously controlled where the doors appeared, where would she put yours?"  
"Um…" Jeffery fought to think, "The bedroom?"  
Stafford frowned.

After several minutes of fighting the shaking castle and increasingly slippery floors, Stafford and Jeffery made their way to the cavernous master bedroom.  
It was empty. There wasn't a single door in the entire chamber.  
Stafford wasn't really surprised.  
"Where else could it be?" Jeffery cried out, "Ah'm gonna be trapped in here forever!"  
"Just think!" Stafford shouted, "If she looks at me as being garbage, herself as being close to God and Yanick as being close to her, where would she see you?"  
The castle flickered, becoming insubstantial for a split second, just long enough to allow a flood of water to fall on the two men.  
"She sees me as…as…" Jeffery jumped up.  
"Get out of here!" he hollered at Stafford, "Ah know where it is!"  
"You're sure?" Stafford asked.  
"Positive! Get out!"  
"You don't have to tell me twice!" Stafford bolted for the kitchen.

"That's it," a revived Glorx said sadly, "The SID is dead."  
"Was anybody connected at the time?"  
Glorx shrugeed.  
"Don't have a clue."  
Fifebee rushed into the laboratory, where Silverado crewmembers where still laughing, shaking hands and so forth in relief.  
"I AM ME AGAIN!" T'Parief roared in triumph, driving one taloned fist into the wall, ripping a large hole in the paneling. With a toothy grin, the slammed his fists into the exposed circuitry again, and again, then began tearing at components.  
"Oh yeah!" he sighed happily, turning back to the rest of the crew, "That felt good!"  
Not noticing an errant cable that had wrapped itself around his foot, T'Parief took one step forward before crashing to the floor amid a storm of laughter.  
"Is everybody all right?" Fifebee demanded.  
"Yeah," Stafford said, standing next to the table where Wowryk was sitting up. Jeffery was climbing off the table next to her, "We're all here."

"This is U.S.S. Silverado, requesting permission to depart,"  
"You're clear," Morales replied, "The docking clamps are actually disengaged this time."  
'Thanks SOO much," replied Stafford from the Ops deck's main view screen.  
"Captain," Beck said, "I'd like to say it was nice to see you again. Although it really wasn't. Anyway, I hope the two of you will be very happy together. Waystation out."  
"Well," Porter said, "That wasn't so bad, was it? No bombs, no vented wastes, no damaged docking arms-"  
"We had a mass riot on the Mall," Lieutenant Commander Russel pointed out, "And I didn't even get to boink the sexy red-head!"  
Beck raised an eyebrow.  
"I meant Dr. Wowryk," Russel muttered.

"Happy together?" Stafford wondered as Beck disappeared from the screen, "What the hell did she mean by that?"  
"Probably nothing," Yanick said quickly, "So, we're off to Deneria?  
"Yup," Stafford nodded, "Oh, and the 'It's My Body And I'll Do What I Want To Bash' starts at 21:00 hours."

"Zis is our first session, jas?" Eva Yvnnokoff asked.  
"Aye," Jeffery said, lying on the couch, "This is totally off the air, right?"  
"Jas. Zis is a private counseling session."  
"Good, good," Jeffery licked his lips, "Sooo…what do I do?"  
"Vell, usually patients start by telling me vhat is bozering zem." Eva had her padd out and ready to go.  
"Well, it's just…damn," Jeffery swore, "Ah didn't know who to talk to about this. Did you hear about how we all got back to our bodies?"  
"Jas," Eva nodded, "Magic doors and weird machines."  
"Right. Well, Noel 'made' the doors, right? One for each of us. And she put her door in the chapel, cuz she's Catholic, Chris's door in the garbage, cuz she thinks he's trash, and Yanick's door in her throne room, y'know, cuz Yanick is her best friend and is always there for her."  
"I am detecting a pattern," Eva said thoughtfully, then chuckled, "So vhere did she put your door? Ze dungeon?" Her laughter faded as she saw the look on Jeffery's face.  
"Ohhh…." she sighed, "Eva to Gibson…"  
"Yeah?"  
"Cancel ze rest of my appointments for today. Zis is going to take a while."

End.

Next: Time to get the ship fixed up and on the road. Sound familiar? Maybe so. But when the crew of the Silverado get to Deneria for repairs, familiarity is the last thing they find.


	3. Service with a Smile

Author's Note: This story was guest-written by another Star Traks Nexus author. I haven't credited his specific name due to recommendations, but it's not mine. That said, I guest-wrote a story for his Waystation series, leaving us even-Steven. He has given full permission for me to use this chapter as I see fit.

Star Traks: Silverado

2.3 'Service With A Smile'

"Captain's Log. Stardate 56603.4. After several days of cruising along at speeds that would get us laughed at by your average arthritic turtle, the Silverado is approaching the Deneria Dry Docks, where we will finally get this ship back into something resembling working order. I'm not expecting perfection here, but it'd be nice to at least get the gaping holes in the hull patched up and the scorch marks cleaned off. And a good recipe for ribs. What kind of replicator doesn't have barbecued ribs? Ours! It's ridiculous!"

"Well!" Sylvia's voice harrumphed as Captain Chris Stafford finished recording his log. "I see someone's priorities are straight. Ribs, indeed. What about me?"  
"I said that stuff about the fixing the hull," Stafford protested to the empty air as he sat at his desk in his ready room.  
"I think can think of several problems on this ship more pressing than your need for dead pig products," the matronly voice of the ship's computer replied.  
"Make a list," Stafford said dismissively. He instantly wished he hadn't as Sylvia harrumphed again and the padd on his desk instantly began scrolling with text describing issue after issue after issue. Burnt out plasma conduits, ruptured gel packs, fried isolinear chips, wet spots on the carpet…  
Stafford decided that he would ask about that last one. He really really didn't want to know.  
"Yanick to Captain Stafford," the cheery voice of his helm officer said over the comm. Judging by the extra hint of excitement in her voice, the Silverado must have been getting close to Deneria.  
"I'm on my way," Stafford said, rising from his desk and stepping out onto the bridge.  
"But I didn't even get to tell you why I commed," Yanick pouted, turning her chair toward her commanding officer with a hideous squeal of metal against metal. Just one more thing to have fixed.  
Stafford sat down in his own chair, carefully avoiding the little bit of protruding metal at the left rear that had already ripped three pairs of uniform pants and torn a large gash in his ass on one occasion. At least it was his ass being ripped now, as odd as that sentiment was. He still woke up every morning and raced to the mirror just to make sure that he was in his own body and not that of Simon Jeffrey. He loved his body and wanted to stay in it forever.  
He was fairly sure that he wasn't alone in that feeling. The "Yea! We're back in our own bodies" celebrations had gone one for quite a while after their departure from Waystation and actually ended up delaying their arrival at Deneria when Yanick, while still slightly sloshed, accidentally put the Silverado on a course to Denobula instead. No one noticed the mistake for three days, which was why the Silverado was arriving at its destination a bit behind schedule.  
Deneria was now looming on the Silverado's viewscreen. Most of the work done by the dry docks occurred inside the massive oval structure, which also housed the facilities quarters, offices, and recreation facilities. If Stafford were ever asked to describe Deneria, he'd probably call it a Dyson Egg. Tiny windows covered the oval, but its main feature was the huge set of doors, large enough to admit even the biggest starships, leading to the docks in the interior. Surrounding the egg were several other long-term docking rigs, much like the one the Silverado had been in at Earth, where some lost causes sat. It was somewhat heartwarming for Stafford to see these ships. They almost made the Silverado's damage seem minor…almost.  
"The Deneria Administrator's office is hailing us," Lieutenant Commander T'Parief, the burly (which was something of an understatement) Gorn-Andorian-Klingon hybrid, announced from Tactical. Stafford wasn't certain, but it sounded like there was relief in his voice. Of course, the fact that the Silverado could barely defend itself from a well-coordinated butterfly attack at the moment could have had something to do with it. Tactical officers tended to worry about such things.  
"Put them on," Stafford said, shifting positions to rise from his chair.  
Snag.  
RRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!  
"DAMMIT!" Stafford screamed just as the image of a middle-aged Vulcan female appeared on the viewscreen.  
"Excuse me?" the Vulcan woman said flatly, arching her eyebrow.  
"Sorry," Stafford said. "Just a problem with the equipment."  
"I bet he says that to all the ladies," Lieutenant San Jall snickered from the Ops Console.  
"I'm Captain Christopher Stafford, USS Silverado," Stafford said, ignoring Jall. "I believe we have an appointment."  
"Yes, you did…three days ago."  
"Sorry. We ran into some delays on the way here."  
"Of course."  
The Vulcan stared at him blankly for several moments as Stafford waited for something more out of her.  
"Are you going to let us in or what?" he asked finally.  
"You are late."  
"Look…" He glanced at the pips on the Vulcan's uniform. "Captain…"  
"T'Shoo."  
"Bless you," Yanick said.  
"I think that's her name," Stafford said.  
"Indeed it is," Captain T'Shoo replied.  
"All right, Captain T'Shoo, my ship has been through a hell of a lot in the last couple of weeks, and Admiral Tunney told me that we had a priority repair berth waiting here for us. I don't care if we are a couple of measly days late; I want you to let us in!"  
"I was not planning to keep you out. However it took me a moment to determined what berths were open at the moment and which would be the best fit for your vessel."  
"Oh. Sorry about that."  
"Your third apology in as many minutes," T'Shoo observed. "You may moor your ship in berth E-3," she added.  
"Thank you. I'll come to your office after we've docked to discuss our repair needs."  
"And why would you do that?"  
"So…um…I can get my ship fixed," Stafford replied confused. "You are in charge over there, aren't you?"  
"I am the administrator of Deneria; however; you will need to speak with Scott Baird, our Supervising Refit and Repair Officer."  
"I want to make sure this is done right," Stafford said. "And I really don't appreciate being shuffled off to a flunky."  
"Captain Baird is not a flunky. I daresay he is more in command of this station than I am."  
"Still…"  
"Do you make it a habit of ignoring your Chief Medical Officer and diagnosing medical conditions and performing surgery, Captain?" T'Shoo asked.  
"I'm not a doctor."  
"And I am not an engineer. Therefore, you will speak with Captain Baird. Deneria out."  
T'Shoo's image vanished abruptly from the viewscreen, replaced by the exterior view of the egg where the great double doors of Deneria were now sliding open to admit the Silverado.  
"Take us in, Captain?" Yanick asked.  
"Yeah, just park it," Stafford grumbled, tossing himself back into his chair.  
Stab.  
"DAMMIT!"

After seeing to it that Yanick docked the ship without banging into anything inside Deneria and a brief detour to change pants, Captain Stafford headed toward the main gangplank extending from the Silverado to the station.  
Along the way he almost literally ran into Lieutenant Commander Simon Jeffrey, who was just stepping out into the corridor.  
"Simon! Just the person I wanted to run into. I called down to Engineering, but they said you were busy…" Stafford trailed off, realizing what room Jeffery had just exited. "Are you seeing Counselor Yvonnokoff?"  
"Me?" Jeffery said quickly, his voice about three octaves higher than he would have liked. "No no. Ah was there makin' sure we were all set to transfer the broadcast equipment for 'The Vonna Show' to temporary quarters on Deneria." This wasn't a lie exactly…well, except for the 'No' part. Jeffery was seeing Yvonnokoff to talk about his relationship with Dr. Noel Wowryk, but on this particular trip he was actually checking on the broadcast equipment. "Starfleet evidently told Commander Noonan it was a priority."  
"I'm sure they did," Stafford replied darkly.  
"Where are ye off to?" Jeffrey asked, changing the subject.  
"Meeting with the Deneria Supervising Refit and Repair Officer," Stafford said, holding up the padd in his hand. "We've got quite a list."  
"That we do. Do you want me to come along?"  
"Nah. I'll deal with this Baird guy first. Captain to Captain. You can hash out the details with his staff later."  
"Thanks," Jeffrey said, always grateful to avoid a meeting when he could. Besides, considering the stories he'd heard about Scott Baird from other Chief Engineers, he was more than happy to sit this one out. "You be careful in there," he said, before walking off down the corridor.  
"I will," Stafford said reflexively. He thought for a moment. "Wait. Why?"  
But Jeffrey had already turned the corner and was gone.

Depending on the type of officer this Scott Baird was, Captain Stafford expected to find him in one of two places: either his office (if he were the paper-pusher type) or half-buried inside an access panel inside one of the ships being repaired (if he were the hands-on type). Instead, the Deneria computer informed Stafford that Captain Baird could be found in Holodeck Three.  
Okay, so maybe Baird was off-shift, working on a simulation, or just a lazy bastard. Stafford certainly wasn't going to judge how the man spent his time. Actually, considering the track record of the Silverado and its crew, Stafford figured he'd be best off not judging anyone.  
The doors to the holodeck were opening as Stafford approached, allowing a man to exit. Stafford was about to call out Baird's name, then realized he recognized the person. It was Captain Jarvis of the USS Hadrian.  
Before Stafford could greet his fellow captain, Jarvis looked over at him, eyes shining and lower lip quivering. Jarvis suddenly burst into tears and rushed off down the corridor wailing.  
What was that about, Stafford wondered. He shrugged it off and stepped into the holodeck before the doors closed again.  
He was on a mountain. That much was clear. It was also clear that he should have brought a coat. The view was spectacular from the trail he was standing on, though, with high, jagged, snow-covered peaks stretching off in every direction as far as the eye could see.  
If it wasn't so cold, he would really be enjoying…  
SLAM.  
Stafford was suddenly clobbered from behind and smacked down to ground. This rather unpleasant sensation would immediately followed up by the distinct feeling of something rolling over him.  
"SON OF A B-B-BISCUIT HEAD!" a furious voice shouted. A split-second later, Stafford felt strong hands forcing him from his current face-down position onto his back.  
Dazed, he saw a black-haired man dressed in a t-shirt and biker shorts looming over him.  
"Who the hell are you and what the f-f-fig newtons are you doing in here?" the man demanded.  
"Captain Chris Stafford. Looking for Captain Baird," Stafford replied weakly.  
"You found him, and he's busy," Baird said, storming over to a fallen bicycle as Stafford struggled to his feet.  
"You were biking? Here?" Stafford asked.  
"And?" Baird said.  
"Aren't you cold?"  
"No." Baird pushed the bike over to other side of the path and leaned it against the rock face going up the mountain. Stafford looked around for the padd he'd lost in the impact and quickly spotted it resting precariously on the edge of the path, dangerously close to plummeting off the side into the abyss below.  
"You got a reason you wanted to see me?" Baird barked as Stafford gingerly retrieved his padd. "Or do you just enjoy getting run over?"  
"Here," Stafford replied, shoving the padd into Baird's hand. "USS Silverado."  
"What about it?"  
"We're scheduled for repairs."  
"No. You were scheduled for repairs. Three days ago."  
"Not this again. I already told the Vulcan woman that Admiral Tunney said that we'd have a priority berth waiting for us here."  
"You did. Three days ago. You weren't here, so another ship got the slot. That's the way it works. You can't expect me to just have my people sitting on their a-a-behinds waiting for you to get here whenever you got around to it when they could be working on something else."  
"But we're here now," Stafford protested.  
"And you got a f-f-fiddling berth. We'll get to you when it's your turn."  
"How long will that be?"  
"I've got to do the initial walk-through first, and I can tell you right now that you won't see my a-a-butt in that sh-sh-rat hole of yours for at least a week."  
"A week!" Stafford exclaimed. "You can't slip away from your other work for an hour or so sooner?"  
Baird's eyes narrowed, boring into Stafford. "My wife is here at the moment. She's been in deep space for the better part of a year, and she's going to be shipping out again before I know it. I am spending every free moment I have with her!"  
"But you're in a holodeck now!"  
"She's on a conference comm debriefing with Starfleet right now. And why the f-f-crap am I telling you this? F-f-f-p-p-p…" Baird shook his head, obviously incredibly frustrated. "Poop off!"  
"Poop off?" Stafford said.  
Baird skipped speaking and went straight to an angry growl, pointing firmly at the open air beyond the mountain. Stafford got the message but wasn't giving in that easily.  
"I'm not leaving until you agree to look over my ship."  
"Exit," Baird snapped. The holodeck doors appeared and slid open.  
"I said I'm not…HEYYYYYYY!"  
Strong guy, Stafford thought as he skidded out into the corridor on his back.  
SMACK.  
Solid wall, too.

"Well, doesn't this just suck?" Jall said, his head resting in his hands as he stared out the windows of "The Fix-It Shop," Deneria Dry Dock's lone lounge, into the vast interior of the station.  
"Ah think things would have to improve a bit before they only suck," Jeffery replied, taking a long guzzle from his lager. Reaching Deneria was supposed to be a relief. Finally the ship would be getting repaired. Finally the crew would be getting a respite.  
What they hadn't planned on was an indefinite layover smack dab in the middle of nowhere. One lounge. A couple of holodecks. And the station equivalent of a strip mall. That was supposed to keep them entertained for who knew how many weeks? Yeah right.  
Captain Stafford looked around the table at the dejected faces of Jeffrey, Jall, and Dr. Noel Wowryk. Ideally, he'd break out some kind of inspiring speech about now praising them for their efforts thus far and extolling them to keep a stiff upper lip in the face of this new adversity, but honestly he didn't feel like it.  
He felt like pushing Captain Scott Baird off of one of his holodeck mountains, bicycle and all.  
"Can't you talk to Starfleet Command?" Dr. Wowryk asked. "Surely they can push this Baird person to speed things up. We're part of a high-profile Presidential initiative. That has to mean something to Command."  
"It'd mean more if the President were actually around," Stafford replied. "But with him off on the Explorer, Command isn't exactly going to bend over backwards for us."  
"So we're stuck here," Wowryk said.  
"You may be. I'm catching the first transport out of here," Jall said. "Forward my comms to Risa."  
"Good luck getting a transport," Stafford said. "This isn't exactly on the major tourist routes."  
"There aren't any," Wowryk said. "I already checked."  
"Can I borrow a shuttle?" Jall asked.  
"No," Stafford said firmly.  
"Ah guess we have to make the best of it," Jeffrey said. He gestured over at Yanick and T'Parief, who were currently nestled close to each other as they gazed out the viewport from a cozy table for two. "They seem to be doin' fine."  
"For now," Jall said. "But we could be here for weeks."  
"We were stranded on the ship before."  
"And look what happened. Somebody has to do something," Jall said.  
"Like what?" Stafford said.  
"I don't know! You're the captain. You figure it out!"  
"The important thing is that the Silverado will be fixed, even if we have to wait until Baird's wife ships out again for that to happen," Stafford said. "I'm going to try a few other avenues, but until Captain Baird does his pre-repair walk-through and gives his team the go-ahead to start working, we have to keep it together. That goes for the entire crew. We're Starfleet professionals. We can handle a little layover."  
"Idle hands are the Devil's workshop," Dr. Wowryk said.  
"Ah think we're already in the Devil's workshop," Jeffrey said. "But the Devil's busy banging his wife."  
"Must you be so crass?" Wowryk snapped, rising from her seat and shooting her "boyfriend" (if Jeffrey could really be called that. Even he wasn't sure most days) a nasty glare.  
"Sorry," Jeffrey mumbled as Wowryk stormed off.  
"You going after her?" Stafford asked.  
"Go get your whuppin', boy," Jall added gleefully.  
"Nah. Ah'll just make her more mad," Jeffrey said. "Best to let her cool down, even if Ah didn't really say anything that wrong."  
"Good luck," Stafford said, getting up. "I'm going to see if I can find the temporary quarters they assigned me. I still don't see why we can't stay on the ship until they start working on it, but like with everything else around here, Baird's word is law. On the upside, I won't have Sylvia watching my every move. Night, folks."  
Stafford headed off, leaving Jeffrey alone with Jall.  
"You sticking around?" Jeffrey asked, not certain that he really wanted Jall as his only company this evening.  
"No way. Things to do," Jall said distractedly. He was obviously thinking about something. "Things to do," he repeated, departing the table.  
Jeffrey let out a sigh and took another long drink from his lager as he recommenced staring blanking out the window at the repair docks. He could see the Silverado all the way across the internal docking facility, its hull battered and scarred from the run-ins with the Matrians. He'd done what he could to keep the ship together until it could get to a proper repair facility. Now Silverado was out of his hands and in those of a man who obviously didn't care one bit about her. Of course, if Jeffrey had been in anything resembling a "normal" relationship with Wowryk, he would probably be a bit more sympathetic to Baird's desire for some alone time with his wife.  
As it was, if Jeffrey was going to suffer, everyone should have to suffer.  
He was pulled out of his internal rant by the sound of someone clearing her throat softly beside him. He looked up and saw a comely blonde woman standing there with a drink in her hand.  
"Mind if I join you?" she asked, smiling sweetly.  
"Ahh…er…" Jeffrey's mind raced. What was this woman doing here? Who was she? Was Wowryk around to see this? Why the hell was he about to pass up a pleasant evening of conversation for someone who was currently mad at him?  
"Sure," he said, pulling out a chair for his new companion. "Sit right down. Ah'm Simon."  
"Carly," she replied, sitting down and extending her hand to him. "Nice to meet you."  
"You as well," Jeffrey replied, flashing her a grin.  
"So," she said, leaning across the table toward him. "What brings you out to our lovely region of the cosmos?"  
"Ship repairs."  
"And you came here? To a repair facility? Imagine that," Carly said, her smile widening ever so sweetly. "To be perfectly honest, I kind of already guessed that. You're with the Silverado, right?"  
"That's us."  
"I heard it came out of a salvage yard. You must have one hell of a Chief Engineer to have gotten that ship into working order."  
"Aw…he's alright, Ah guess," Jeffrey said with a twinkle in his eye.  
"Give him more credit. To pull that kind of job off."  
"It wasn't that big of a deal."  
"Not that big of a deal? All of those burnt out systems. Obsolete technology. Fried plasma conduits." By this time, Jeffrey was practically beaming. Carly couldn't help but notice. "You're him, aren't you?"  
"Yes, ma'am. Ah am."  
"Oh yikes," Carly said embarrassed. "And you just let me go on like that."  
"Sorry, but Ah enjoyed it."  
"I'm sure you did," she said, slapping him playfully on the arm. "You big mean liar."  
"Ah didn't lie about anything."  
"No. I guess you didn't," Carly said with a mock pout. Her mouth stretched to a sly grin. "I haven't been entirely honest with you either."  
"Oh really? Is that so now?"  
"Uh huh. I was eavesdropping on your conversation with your shipmates earlier. That's how I knew you were from the Silverado. Captain Baird's giving your captain a hard time, isn't he?"  
"You could say that."  
"He shouldn't take it personally. Now that Captain Sullivan's back for a few days, Baird has made her his top priority."  
"But what about the other ships here for repairs? He can't just shut the entire facility down," Jeffrey said.  
"The work on the other ships was all already underway. Captain Baird finished his walk-throughs and repair planning on them days ago. Silverado was supposed to come in before the USS Orleans arrived and he took the time off to be with his wife."  
"But we were late," Jeffrey said, understanding.  
"Which Captain Baird sees as being your problem, not his."  
"Ah guess Ah can see his point." You had to give it to the man. He was devoted to the woman he loved. If he'd been in Baird's place and Noel Wowryk were coming to see him after a long separation, he might do the same thing. If they were together. Which he wasn't really sure of. Especially since he was now sitting here flirting with this Carly woman something fierce.  
"I might be able to help you, though," Carly said, yanking Jeffrey back to the situation at hand.  
"Really?"  
"Maybe. I could talk to Captain Baird for you. I am on his staff."  
"That would be wonderful! Ah'd really appreciate it."  
Carly smiled. "Would you? Then I suppose you'd be willing to do something for me in return?"  
"Anything. Just name it."  
"Well…"

"She wants me to have dinner with her. Tonight!" Jeffrey said the next morning as he anxiously paced Captain Stafford's temporary quarters on Deneria.  
"So?" Captain Stafford said.  
"So! Ah can't. Sitting with her for a little while havin' a drink was one thing, but this is more like a date!"  
"Did she say it would be a date?"  
"No, but it was pretty clear what she wanted."  
"You sure you're not reading too much into this?"  
"She was running her hand up and down along my arm when she said it. Noel doesn't even do that."  
"Or anything else."  
"Chris!"  
"Okay okay. Fine. She wants to go on a dinner date with you, and you want to be faithful to Wowryk. I get it. But we're talking about your duty to the ship here, and right now your duty is to do everything you can to get us away from this place!"  
"Not having any luck, eh?" Jeffrey said.  
"No," Stafford replied, plopping down into the chair of the tiny desk in the room. "I've talked to Tunney and six other admirals. Not a single one of them is willing to countermand Baird on this one."  
"Well, we were late."  
"Would everyone stop saying that! Yes! We were late! I get it! But that doesn't mean he can hold us hostage while he has a conjugal visit from the misses! And to think I almost felt sorry for the guy when I met him."  
"Sorry for him? Why?" Jeffrey asked.  
"I…I thought he had a speech impediment."  
"A speech impediment? You mean like a lisp?"  
"A stutter. I thought it was a stutter anyway. He was stumbling over words right and left in the holodeck. Turns out he's got a damn profanity filter chip in his head."  
"So basically he was trying to cuss you out, but couldn't."  
"Yeah. But I hope it gave him a screaming headache!" Stafford snapped.  
"Ah'm sure that will help our cause."  
"No, you will. We have to get to Baird anyway we can, and right now your new lady friend is the only route we've got. Wine her. Dine her. Just get her to talk to Baird. And if Wowryk has a problem with it, you can tell her it was an order from me!"  
"You really want me to do that?"  
"Er…actually, why don't you just skip telling her about this at all? Okay?"  
"If you say so."  
"I do."  
"All right," Jeffrey said, starting toward the door. He stopped and turned back to Stafford. "Oh, Ah almost forgot. Lieutenant Jall's been putting in several requests for replicator use."  
"He's asking permission to order his food now? The hell?"  
"He wants to use all the replicators on the ship. The food replicators, standard items, heavy materials, all of it."  
"Did he say why?"  
"Only that it's for crew morale. Since nothing else is happening on the Silverado right now, Ah was going to let him do it. What's the worst he could do?"  
"I don't even want to think about it, but if he's really got something to help morale before complete boredom sets in, he's welcome to the replicators. We can always bail him out of the Deneria brig when the ship is finished," Stafford replied.  
"I'll give him the go ahead then. And I'll see Carly tonight."  
"Thanks. And don't think of it as a date. It's a mission. This mission just happens to include a nice dinner."  
"Ah'll keep that in mind," Jeffrey said, then headed out of Stafford's quarters.  
"You're going about this all wrong," an all-too-familiar female voice said once Jeffrey was gone.  
"Sylvia!" Stafford exclaimed. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on Silverado!"  
"I got bored," the sentient computer replied. "You all just left me there…alone. No one to talk to. That's no way to treat me, Chris."  
"That doesn't mean you can just infiltrate the Deneria computer system to come pester me."  
"Oh, so I'm pestering you now? And here I was going to offer you a suggestion that just might get the ship fixed sooner, but no, I'm a pest. I guess the pest can just go somewhere else, now can't she?"  
"Wait wait," Stafford said, holding his hands up. "What's your idea?"  
"I really shouldn't tell you after that."  
"Sylvia. Please."  
"Oh all right. I just think you're going about this all wrong. You want this Baird person to do something for you. He wants to be with his wife. So you should talk to his wife. She's the only one who's going to be able to get through to him now."  
Stafford was silent, mulling it over.  
"You know I'm right," Sylvia said.  
"Yes, Sylvia. It's a good idea," Stafford admitted grudgingly. "I'll try and track Captain Sullivan down."  
"You might check her ship. The Orleans."  
"Is she actually there?"  
"I believe so. The Deneria computer is being cheeky and refusing to tell me for sure. Such a tease."  
"I'm sure you can handle him…er…it. Or whatever," Stafford said, pulling on his uniform jacket and charging toward the door.  
"So that's it? That's all you have to say to me?" Sylvia said.  
"Thank you, Sylvia," Stafford said, rolling his eyes.  
"That's better," the computer replied as Stafford made a quick retreat into the corridor.

The USS Orleans was docked in a repair bay on the opposite side of Deneria from Stafford's temporary quarters. Somehow Stafford had a feeling that it was quite close to Captain Baird's though. Favoritism at its finest.  
Stafford exited the turbolift just outside of the gangplank leading into the Steamrunner-class ships saucer. A large window just to the side of the entrance gave Stafford a good view of the ship beyond. The Orleans had been on a deep-space exploratory mission for almost a year, yet it looked a hell of a lot better than the Silverado did at the moment. It wasn't pristine, but they'd obviously managed to keep themselves out of trouble for the most part. Meanwhile, Stafford and the Silverado were trying to save the galaxy from the Matrians.  
Okay. Maybe that was a bit of an overstatement, but still there was no reason this ship should be crawling with repair techs while the Silverado sat empty and alone.  
Uggh. He was starting to sound like Sylvia now.  
Pushing his feelings aside, Stafford strode into the ship and made his way to the nearest turbolift, his captain's pips serving as all the clearance he needed to be on board.  
After a quick ride, Stafford exited the turbolift onto the bridge, where three Deneria repair techs stood listening to a brunette woman with fine, shoulder-length hair giving orders. The four pips on her collar gave Stafford the impression that he'd found his quarry: Captain Emily Sullivan.  
"Can I get something less…metallic?" Sullivan was asking the techs as the group considered her chair. "And softer cushions. This thing is murder on my butt if I sit in it for any length of time. I should probably just ask for a recliner."  
The techs exchanged a quick look of "Is she serious?"  
"I'm joking," Sullivan said, answering their unspoken question. "Just see what you can find. This chair may have worked for Captain Woodall, but this captain's tush needs something better. Wow. Aren't I just the demanding little princess?"  
"We'll see what we can do, ma'am," one of the techs said. The trio nodded crisply at Sullivan, then passed Stafford on their way into the turbolift.  
"You should try mine," Stafford said to Sullivan once they were gone. "Guaranteed to jab metal into your rear every single time."  
Sullivan eyed the intruder on her bridge, trying to figure out if she should know who he was.  
"Chris Stafford," he said, stepping forward to shake her hand. "You're Captain Sullivan, aren't you?"  
"Sure am," Sullivan replied grinning. "Sorry," she said, catching her smile. "I'm still getting used to people saying the new rank. It makes me smile every time."  
"I remember the feeling," Stafford said. "I've only had people calling me captain for a few months now."  
"So we're both newbies."  
"That we are."  
"Did you come by for a meeting of the rookie captains' club?"  
"Not quite," Stafford said. "I've actually got a bit of a problem, and I think that you're the one person who might be able to help me."  
"Oh jeeze. You are in trouble then. What's the problem?"  
"Actually, it's about your husband."  
Sullivan's affable smile vanished. "Uh huh."  
"You may not know this, but he's completely pushed aside his duties to be with you while you're here. Normally, I wouldn't care, but it means that my ship isn't getting worked on. The Deneria staff can't start until he does a walk-through, and he won't do a walk-through until you're gone. You see my problem?"  
"He's putting you off because of me?" Sullivan said, a smile returning, but this one was definitely not aimed at Stafford. She shook her head and chuckled. "He can be a real sweetie sometimes, not that he'd ever admit it. I need to go."  
"Go? Hang on. What about Baird?"  
"That's exactly who I'm going to see," Sullivan said, striding toward the turbolift. "If anyone asks, I'll be back when the ship's finished."  
"What about Silverado? Will you talk to him?"  
Sullivan stopped and turned back to Stafford. "You're not married, are you?"  
"No, I'm not."  
"Didn't think so. Here's a tip for the future. Never tell your spouse how to do her job, because you really won't want her telling you how to do yours. Domestic Tranquility 101. Nice to meet you, Chris." And with that, Sullivan was gone.  
Sullivan's marriage was becoming a real pain in his ass, Stafford thought as he plopped down into the Orleans command chair.  
"Unnh," Stafford grunted as his rear end impacted painfully against the decidedly unsoft seat.  
He quickly concluded that Sullivan's chair wasn't exactly doing wonders for his ass either.

"This is a bad idea," T'Parief said as he and Yanick approached the heavy double doors of one of the many cargo bays located in the depths of Deneria. This particular cargo bay did not actually hold anything resembling cargo currently. It had, however, been commandeered by San Jall for purposes as yet unknown.  
"You don't even know what Jall has done in there yet," Yanick said.  
"He is involved. That is all I need to know."  
"He's trying to do something nice for the crew. We need to be supportive. Now come on." She grabbed her hulking boyfriend by the arm and tugged him toward the cargo bay entrance.  
T'Parief grudgingly allowed himself to be led into Jall's new domain, consoling himself with the fact that there was at least the possibility that Jall's efforts would give T'Parief a good reason to either throw him in the brig or give him a good pounding.  
The cargo bay doors slid open, emitting a cloud of smoke into the corridor that quickly engulfed Yanick and T'Parief.  
"What is that odor?" T'Parief demanded.  
"Cigars," Yanick coughed.  
"And lots of them!" San Jall exclaimed as he met the two officers at the entrance. "Just one of many delights to be found within. Come and join us."  
There was indeed an "us" inside the cargo bay. In fact, most of the Silverado's crew seemed to here gathered around the long bar at the rear of the bay, one of many gaming tables spread around the left side of the room, or dancing away on the right.  
Yanick watched the dancers in confusion. They all were jamming along, but she couldn't hear anything other than a bit of soft jazz playing.  
"Their behind a sonic dampening field," Jall said, noticing Yanick's look. "Keeps them from disturbing the rest of us."  
"Wow! That's a great idea," she said. "You really put a lot of thought into this, didn't he, T'Parief?"  
"Yes," T'Parief growled. As much as it pained him to admit it, Jall's creation was looking to be a far better entertainment option than Deneria's one lounge or one restaurant.  
"Drinks are free, but the gaming tables require credits. And the crewmen running the games and serving drinks think Captain Stafford ordered them to be here."  
"Did he?" Yanick asked.  
"Indirectly."  
"What does that mean?" T'Parief asked, his eyes narrowing.  
"The captain said I could have whatever resources I needed, and I needed crewmen to run the place. Therefore, it's okay for me to have them. Besides, it's all for the good of morale, right?"  
"Right!" Yanick agreed eagerly. She grabbed T'Parief's hands. "I want to dance!"  
"Have fun, you two," Jall said, giving Yanick a wink before heading off to the roulette table.  
"He has an angle. He must," T'Parief said, watching him go.  
"Aww, leave it alone. He's trying to be nice."  
"The games are rigged."  
A lieutenant from astrophysics suddenly leapt up from her chair at one of the tables. "Woohoo! I won!"  
"Goruthnit," T'Parief cursed under his breath.  
"Satisfied?" Yanick asked.  
"No."  
"Too bad. Let's boogie." She stepped through the sonic dampening field onto the dance floor, dragging T'Parief behind her. T'Parief locked eyes with Jall, his glare sending a very clear "I'll be watching" vibe, before he joined Yanick.

At approximately the same time as T'Parief was being forced to pull out his dancing shoes, Simon Jeffrey was sitting in a dark corner of Deneria's one restaurant, Chez Refit, looking pretty much everywhere except at his dinner companion.  
"…get to specialize in our work a bit more here than you can on a starship," Carly was saying. "We see all classes of starships coming in and out of here, but they've all got plasma conduits. That means I have work I can do."  
"You don't get bored dealing with plasma all day?" Jeffrey asked without looking at her.  
"No. I guess you could say I like things hot," Carly replied, making the last word a sensuous whisper. Jeffrey was too occupied with checking the restaurant door again to notice. Wowryk hadn't said anything about her plans for the evening, so he had no idea if she was planning to come here or not.  
If she did…  
Well, if she did, he was doomed. That was all there was to it.  
"Is something wrong?" Carly asked finally.  
"Why do you ask?"  
"Because you're acting like you expect security to bust in and drag you away in restraints at any moment."  
"Ah'd be lucky if that's all that happened."  
"Excuse me?"  
Jeffrey was a bit busy being terrified at that moment to respond. Wowryk had just entered with a couple of her nurses.  
"Ah'm screwed," Jeffrey moaned.  
"What?" Carly asked, looking over at him. He wasn't there. "Simon?"  
"Act like Ah'm not here," Jeffrey's voice said from under the table.  
"What are you doing under there?"  
"Hiding. What does it look like?"  
"From who?"  
"Ah can't be seen with you."  
"Ohhh. I get it. You're seeing someone, aren't you?"  
"You could say that. Ah'm sorry. I should have told you. Are you mad?"  
"No no. Why should I be?"  
"Ah've pretty much ruined dinner."  
"Yes, but you can make it up to me tomorrow night. We'll just have to make sure we eat somewhere more private."

"She wants me to go to her quarters!" Jeffrey exclaimed the next morning as he was back pacing Stafford floor. "Tonight!"  
"Wait. How did you make it out of the restaurant without Wowryk seeing you?" Stafford demanded as he sat at the desk.  
"Ah waited until she left. Carly fed me under the table."  
"Do I even have to tell you how that sounds?"  
"No," Jeffrey said firmly. "But what about tonight?"  
"It's obvious. You have to have dinner with her."  
"How is that obvious?"  
"She hasn't talked to Baird yet, has she?"  
"Well no," Jeffrey admitted.  
"Then the mission isn't accomplished, so you have to get back in there and finish the job."  
"But we're going to her quarters. What if she expects me to…finish the job in bed with her?"  
"Then you should count yourself lucky."  
"Ah'm not going to cheat on Noel. You can't order me to sleep with Carly just on the off chance that she can convince Captain Baird to step up our timetable. I won't do it!"  
"I'm not ordering you. I'm just saying that if the opportunity arises…"  
"I'm not taking it."  
"Whatever you say. If she brings it up, tell her you have a headache. It's a time-honored technique."  
"I'll try," Jeffrey said, trudging toward the door.  
"Get lucky," Stafford said with a chuckle.  
"Chris…"  
"What? All I said was 'Good luck,'" Stafford protested as innocently as he could manage. Jeffrey shot him a glare, then left the quarters.  
"What are you doing to that poor man?" Sylvia's voice asked, startling him right out of his chair.  
"Stop doing that!" Stafford snapped.  
"Looking out for the well-being of the crew? I most certainly will not."  
"You know what I mean, Sylvia. You can't keep infiltrating the Deneria computer and coming into my room without asking!"  
"Well excuse me for wanting an update. I'm the one sitting alone in a docking slip, all beat to hell."  
"The ship is beat to hell. You are fine. And we're doing everything we can."  
"Did you talk to Captain Baird's wife?" Sylvia pressed,  
"Yes, I did."  
"And?"  
"And she ran off to screw her husband because she found his treatment of us romantic."  
"Well!" Sylvia exclaimed insulted. "The nerve of some people!"  
"Tell me about it," Stafford said. "Just let Simon talk to his new friend. She might be able to help us. We'll know more tonight. Okay?"  
"All right," Sylvia said, obviously displeased. "But you could come visit, you know."  
"I will. I promise."  
"Today?"  
"Yes, today," Stafford said.  
"Thank you."  
"Good bye, Sylvia."  
"Bye bye, Christopher."  
The room was silent for several moments.  
"Sylvia?" Stafford ventured.  
No response. She was gone, which meant Stafford could get back to…get back to a lot of nothing. Damn this place was boring!

While she had never been one to take part in Deneria's night life (or lack thereof as many of the facilty's residents and visitors maintained), Administrator T'Shoo could not help but notice that the station was quieter than usual this evening, mainly because she'd had that particular fact repeatedly brought to her attention by the proprietors of Deneria's few shops and eateries.  
Despite the presence of four starship crews on Deneria, Chez Refit had only one table occupied. No one was buying drinks at The Fix-It Shop. And down in Deneria's glorified strip mall, not a single "Deneria Does It Right" t-shirt or commemorative snow globe had been purchased. Even the holodecks weren't booked up.  
This situation was certainly unusual, and anything unusual was enough to displease T'Shoo. While she was not obsessed with order by any stretch, she had certain expectations concerning the operation of Deneria. Ships would come and go. Personnel would be housed and fed. Leisure activities would take place. All of these events were expected and accounted for in her administration of the facility. Based on past experience and general trends, she could tell you how many people would be dining in Chez Refit on any given night.  
Except tonight, evidently.  
An unforeseen factor had obviously come into play, and that state of affairs could not stand.  
She would have to investigate.  
The solution to at least part of the mystery ended up being rather easy to ascertain as internal sensors showed that several hundred people were currently occupying Cargo Bay Three in the lower levels of the station. A quick check of the cargo bay logs revealed that that particular cargo bay, the largest one on Deneria, had been reserved by the USS Silverado.  
This was not unusual in itself. Several of the cargo bays were set aside for the use of visiting ships to store equipment and such over the course of a refit. However, most of these reservations and arrangements were made well in advance of the ship's arrival. The cargo bay in use by the Silverado was reserved by a Lieutenant San Jall a day after the ship had docked and its crew moved to temporary quarters.  
Obviously Lieutenant Jall's intentions for the cargo bay did not include actually storing cargo.  
Captain T'Shoo's suspicions were confirmed as she actually stepped into Cargo Bay Three and found the cavernous room completely filled with people. The dance floor to her right was so packed that the movements of the people there appeared to be more of a coordinated undulating than anything resembling actual dance. The line for the bar at the rear of the room stretched all the way back to her position at the doors, and the crowds surrounding each gaming table blended into each other resulting in one huge mob.  
A muscular man in a tiny pair of bikini briefs squeezed between her and the ensign in front of her carrying a tray of drinks.  
"Do you…work here?" T'Shoo asked, stopping him.  
"This isn't my section," the man replied. "You'll have to find your waiter or go to the bar."  
"I simply wish to know where I could find Lieutenant San Jall."  
The barely-clad waiter let out an annoyed sigh and looked around the room for a moment. "Over there," he said finally, pointing at a man standing by one of the gaming tables.  
"Thank you," T'Shoo said. The waiter was already pushing through the crowd before the words even left her mouth.  
To be honest, she probably could have located Jall without the waiter's help. Dressed as he was in a bright white suit with a shimmering red silk button-down shirt visible under his sport coat, the man the waiter had pointed out was the only logical choice to be in charge of a place such as this.  
Threading her way through the throng as best she could, T'Shoo made her way to her quarry. Judging by how rapidly the broad grin on Jall's face vanished when he saw her approach, she would be able to dispense with the introductions.  
"Lieutenant Jall," T'Shoo said flatly. It wasn't a question, and it certainly wasn't a friendly greeting. "You are responsible for this…gathering."  
"I'm operating with my captain's permission," Jall said quickly. "Take any problems up with him."  
"Is he here?"  
"No."  
"And is he actually aware of what you are doing here?"  
"Probably not, but that's not the point."  
"No. The point is that this should not be here, and you will close it down immediately."  
"Close it down!" Jall shouted, sending gasped and a wave of excited exclamations expanding outward through the crowd. "I'm doing this for the good of the Silverado crew. It's for morale!"  
"There are far more people here than that."  
"So word got out and things grew. It happens." Also growing at that point was the agitation in the crowd.  
"Not any more. You have obtained the use of a cargo bay under false pretenses. You have filled it to an unsafe capacity. You have opened an unauthorized bar on the station. You are operating an unauthorized entertainment facility that is in direct competition with and harming the business of the establishments legally operating on Deneria. You are running illicit gaming tables and allowing gambling to take place against regulations."  
"Their going to close it down!" another voice boomed in the crowd. "Security is probably on the way! Move!"  
Screams of panic went up throughout the cargo bay as chairs, tables, glasses, and everything else went flying.  
"And now you have started a riot," T'Shoo said placidly a split second before she was leveled by a flying craps table.

Blissfully unaware that a riot was in progress several decks below, Simon Jeffrey stepped up to the door of Lieutenant Commander Carly Nance's quarters and rang the door chime. Actually, at that moment, Jeffrey was not blissful about much of anything. He'd spent lunch with Noel Wowryk making up lies about why they couldn't have dinner together, which he felt terrible about, especially considering she'd actually apologized (sort of) for storming out on him at the bar a couple of nights earlier.  
And now he was going to have to spend an evening alone with a woman who quite possibly wanted to have sex with him.  
The doors slid open, and all Jeffrey could see was skin. Shoulders. Arms. Legs. Between it all, covering just what was necessary for it to qualify as clothes, was a tiny, black-sequined tube dress that was so tight that it could only have been put on by methods that defied the laws of physics.  
"Right on time," Carly said.  
"Ah aim to please," Jeffrey replied, trying not to focus on the glorious cleavage practically spilling out of the top of the dress.  
"I certainly hope so," Carly purred.  
Status Update. The "quite possibly wanted to have sex" had just been upgraded to a "most definitely wanted to have sex."  
"Do come in," she added, stepping aside to allow Jeffrey to enter, but staying in the door frame such that he had to press his body against hers to do so. Doing his best to think about dilithium crystals instead of the gorgeous woman in his midst, he slid into the quarters.  
"So what's for dinner?" he asked grasping for a distraction.  
"Dinner?" Carly asked innocently.  
"That is what you invited me here for."  
"Now, Simon. I think we both know that's not the case."  
"We do?" Wow, was that non-convincing.  
Carly nodded, stalking over to him. "We do. I've seen the way you look at me. You want me. I want you."  
Jeffrey dodged and sprinted toward the other side of the room. "Carly, you're great and all, but Ah can't. I'm seeing someone else."  
"The woman you were hiding from?" Carly asked. "Solid relationship you have there." She charged, and Jeffrey retreated through the door out into the corridor.  
Whoops. Wrong door. This was definitely not the corridor.  
This was her bedroom. She had him right where she wanted him.  
"I've got you right where I want you," Carly said, coming through the door behind him.  
See.  
"Carly, wait a minute," Jeffrey said, backing up toward the bathroom door. If he could just lock himself in there, he could wait her out. "Ah do like you, and you are extremely attractive, but Ah'm not gonna sleep with you. Ah'm here because you said you would talk to Captain Baird. That's all. So stop and…"  
Hoping to catch her off guard, he dashed into the bathroom.  
Dammit! Wrong door again.  
This was a closet.  
And what the hell?  
Jeffrey was frozen in his tracks staring at the back wall of the closet. Visible through the few garments hanging there was a veritable shrine of pictures of people. He glanced back at Carly, who was similarly stopped in her tracks. She smiled at him weakly as he turned back to the shrine.  
"What is this?" he demanded, his eyes drifting to the banner over the shrine, which read, "My Conquests."  
"Conquests?" Jeffrey said, looking at the photos. "Jack Carter? Grendis M'rell? Geordi LaForge? These men are all…" He turned on her again. "You collect Chief Engineers!"  
"Collect makes it sound creepy," Carly said.  
"It IS creepy!" Jeffrey exclaimed.  
"Everybody had a good time. You'll have a good time."  
Jeffrey ignored her and went back to the pictures. "Monica Vaughn! MONTGOMERY SCOTT!" He spun around. "YOU GOT SCOTTY?!"  
"Aye," Carly said with a grin.  
"Ah don't believe this," Jeffrey said, closing the closet door and storming past Carly out into the living room.  
"The night doesn't have to be over, Simon," Carly said, following him. "Does it really matter now that you know the truth?"  
"Ah wasn't going to sleep with you anyway."  
"Yes, you were."  
"No, Ah wasn't. Ah have a girlfriend."  
"Doesn't matter."  
"It does to me." Jeffrey headed toward the door to the corridor.  
"I won't talk to Captain Baird," Carly snapped, trying to stop him.  
"Ah don't want you to. We'll find another way."  
"There is no other way."  
"Ah don't believe that either. Good night." He charged out of the quarters, leaving Carly alone.  
She fumed for a moment, then shrugged. "Oh well," she said to herself, stepping over to her desk console. "When does the next ship arrive?"

"There's got to be another way!" Jeffrey exclaimed, slamming his hands down on Stafford's desk. "Ah'll go beg the man myself if Ah have to."  
"It won't help," Stafford said. He was the one pacing this time. "Your person was our one connection to Baird. And after tonight, we'll be lucky if he gets to us even after Captain Sullivan leaves."  
"After tonight? You really think Carly would turn him against us?"  
"That has nothing to with it. There was a small…riot. A bunch of people got hurt including the station administrator. And Jall's in the brig."  
"Jall? What did he…" Jeffrey trailed off understanding. "The morale thing."  
"You got it. It was actually great for morale. Unfortunately, it was also illegal. And then there was the whole riot thing. Not good for our image."  
"Was our image ever good?"  
"Well, now it's worse now," Stafford said. He sighed and plopped down into the desk chair. "Your person won't help us. We've pissed off most of the station. Sylvia is pestering me practically hourly. And we still can't get to Baird. What the hell are we going to do?"  
"Maybe there's nothing we can do. Maybe we just have to wait him out."  
"And stay here indefinitely? No. Not happening. Like you said, there's got to be another way to get to him. Some way we could…" Stafford trailed off, a smile slowly filling his face.  
"You've got something," Jeffrey said.  
"I just might," Stafford said, his smile now a full-fledged grin. "I just might."

After a long day together, two lovers, husband and wife, snuggled close under the sheets in the darkness of their bedroom. A soft peck on the lips becomes two, then the kisses grow longer, deeper, and more passionate. Hands move. Clothes are discarded. And soon the couple has blocked out the world as they luxuriate in each other's bodies. No one exists except for the two of them…  
"Looks like I arrived at the perfect time!" a matronly voice said suddenly.  
…and an unwelcome guest.  
"F-F-F-FINKLE ME! LIGHTS!" Scott Baird shouted in a fury has he leapt out of his bed, leaving Emily Sullivan frantically fumbling to keep herself covered under the sheets. Baird had no such modesty.  
"Who the f-f-fork is there?" the nude engineer demanded, eyes darting around the room.  
"Just me, dear," the voice repeated.  
"Who the h-h-heck is 'me'?"  
"My, are you always this friendly?"  
"You want my fist in your face?"  
"I'd have to have a face first for that to work, but if you must know, my name is Sylvia."  
"Sylvia who?"  
"Just Sylvia. I guess my last name should probably be Silverado, but the Sylvia is kind of already short for that."  
"Silverado," Baird fumed. "When I get through…"  
"Through with what? With your fornicating? Don't let me stop you. I'll be happy to wait…and watch. I'm sure it will be a sight to behold."  
"Wait till I get my hands on you. I'm going to wring your neck!"  
"No neck. No face. No neck. Understand?" Sylvia said.  
"Whatever you are… Hold on. You're not on the comm are you?"  
"Now you're getting it."  
"I remember this now. Something in the reports Silverado sent about a problem with their computer."  
"I am NOT a problem!" Sylvia stated firmly. "Not to the Silverado anyway. You are another story."  
"Scott, if she's in the computer…" Sullivan started.  
"She is the computer. The Silverado's computer," Baird said.  
"And now I'm inside yours, and I plan to stay here with you for as long as it takes."  
"As long as what takes?" Sullivan asked.  
"As long as it takes Captain Baird to decide to do his walk-through of the Silverado, of course."  
Baird began waving his fist into the air at his unseen adversary. "Now listen here, you electronic bi-bi-bit of metal. If you think I'm going to be pushed into repairing that piece of sh-sh-crap any sooner because of you, you've got…"  
"Scott!" Sullivan shouted, interrupting. "Just do the damn walk-through! How long can it take?"  
"I'm not giving in to this machine!"  
"Fine. I'll leave, and you can be stubborn by yourself!"  
Baird's head looked ready to literally explode from the pressure of the fury he was feeling. "ALL RIGHT!" he bellowed. "You'll get your d-d-dang walk-through! Just leave us alone!"  
"But you're such a lovely couple. You sure I can't drop by while we're docked here?"  
"Get. Out."  
"If I must. Good night, you two lovebirds."  
"OUT!"  
There was no response.  
"Finally!" Baird spat, climbing back into bed. "Now where were we?"  
"Scott, I can't. Not with her possibly watching."  
"She's gone."  
"Can you be sure of that?"  
"FU-FU-FU-FUFFILAPERDAFILFRIDIDDLEKIT!"

"Captain's Log. Stardate 56606.7. Much to my surprise, Captain Scott Baird summoned Commander Jeffrey and myself to the Silverado first thing this morning for our pre-repair walk-through. Baird was curt, but professional, and he promised us that he would have the Silverado as good as new as soon as possible. Somehow I believe him. Probably because I know he's not fond of late night visitors.  
"I have no doubt that Lieutenant Jall will also be anxious for our repairs to be finished and for the Silverado to leave Deneria because until that happens, he's stuck in the Deneria brig for his attempts to boost morale. I can't speak for anyone else, but knowing that Jall is sitting in a cell bored out of his mind has boosted my morale considerably."

As good as his word, Captain Baird pulled every available technician and engineer from the other repair and refit projects at Deneria and assigned them all to getting the Silverado ready to launch. Work that should have taken at least three weeks to complete was done in one, so far sooner than even he expected, Captain Stafford found himself sitting in a brand-spanking-new command chair inside of a pristine bridge waiting for the Silverado's final clearance to leave Deneria. All that remained was to retrieve their one missing crewman.  
"Commander T'Parief has returned with Lieutenant Jall," Commander Matthew Noonan, the Silverado's first officer, reported from his seat next to Stafford. "Deneria states that we are cleared for departure."  
"Clear all moorings," Stafford said. "Slow ahead, Yanick. And make sure the doors are fully open before you try to take us through them."  
"Yes, sir," Yanick said as Stafford rose from his seat.  
"You have the bridge, Commander."  
"May I ask where you are going?" Noonan said.  
"Just to check out a few of the upgrades. Let me know if you need me," Stafford replied, striding to the turbolift with more spring to his step than he'd felt in weeks.

Several decks below, T'Parief escorted Jall through the ship's corridors.  
"I'm not under arrest any more, am I?" Jall asked his hulking shadow.  
"No."  
"Then stop following me. I can get to the bridge without your help."  
"Very well," T'Parief said, not going anywhere.  
"WHAT?" Jall demanded. "WHAT IS IT?"  
The massive Klingon-Gorn-Andorian officer shifted uncomfortably. "I...I wanted to tell you that I had...fun in your cargo bay."  
"Well isn't that something?" Jall said. "You are capable of having a good time."  
"Yes, but...I don't understand. Why did you do it?"  
"Why did I do what?"  
"Create that club. It was considerate of others, which is not something you generally do on purpose. I assumed at first there was an angle, but I could not find one. Even your gaming tables did not seem to be rigged. People won with regularity."  
Jall smiled. "Not more than they lost," he said. "I'll let you in on a little secret. Actually, it's not much of a secret. It should be obvious to anyone with half a brain. Legitimate casinos are hugely profitable businesses for one simple reason. No matter how much the guests win, the house wins more. In the end, the house always wins. So yeah, the games were on the up-and-up, but I still walked away with a rather tidy sum at the end of the day...even after I paid for damages to the cargo bay."  
"So...you did this for credits?"  
"Absolutely."  
"Thank the Great Bird," T'Parief said relieved.  
"Huh?"  
"I was starting to doubt the sanity of the universe there for a while, but everything is back as it should be. Thank you." T'Parief headed off down the corridor.  
"I think I should be insulted," Jall muttered to himself. He then thought about the large deposit of credits now sitting in his account. "Nah."

Elsewhere on the ship, Captain Stafford met Commander Jeffrey as the Chief Engineer stepped out of the turbolift into the corridor of Deck Six.  
"You wanted to see me, Chris?" Jeffrey said, falling into step beside Stafford as they walked down the corridor. "Is something wrong with the ship?"  
"Nope. Everything looks great on my end. How about yours?"  
"Ship shape for once. Baird's people did a heck of a job."  
"He can be quite the motivator, I imagine," Stafford said. "When he's been properly motivated himself."  
"Ah'm sure of that."  
"How are you doing otherwise?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"Thought about Carly at all?"  
"Nah. Not so much. I've been seeing Noel pretty much every evening. My mind is on her."  
"Come on, Simon. You can't tell me you weren't tempted."  
"Ah was tempted. Ah was definitely tempted. That tiny little dress. That body. You have no idea how good she looked. But Ah couldn't. Ah just couldn't. Ah want to be with Noel."  
"Even if she won't lay a hand on you."  
"Even if," Jeffrey said. And even if she thinks I belong in a dungeon, he added to himself. "It's not about that."  
"You're either in love or insane," Stafford said as the pair approached a holodeck. "Probably both."  
"What are we doing here?" Jeffrey asked, changing the subject.  
"Baird told me that he made upgraded the holodecks as well. State-of-the-art. Newest in holographic technology. They should be more realistic than ever. Up for a ride?"  
"The cowboy program?" Jeffrey asked grimacing.  
"It'll be fun."  
"Sure. The horse crap will smell realer than ever."  
"Sylvia, please load program Stafford Three," Stafford said.  
"It's ready for you," Sylvia's voice replied.  
"Thank you, Sylvia."  
"Another thank you. You've been saying that to me a lot lately. I like it."  
"I owe you one. We all do."  
"I'll remember that," Sylvia said as Stafford and Jeffrey stepped into the holodeck onto a dusty plain.  
The doors slid closed behind them, and the dusty plain instantly was transformed into a snow-swept mountain trail.  
"What in the hell?" Jeffrey asked, looking around at their new surroundings.  
"Must be a glitch," Stafford said. And then he realized why all of this looked familiar.  
"End program!" he cried. "Sylvia, end program! SYLVIA!"  
"What? What is it?" Jeffrey demanded.  
Suddenly, a seemingly-endless horde of t-shirt and shorts-clad bicyclists rounded the mountain at breakneck speed, pedaling furiously as they charged toward Stafford and Jeffrey. And Stafford knew that somewhere Scott Baird was laughing. He couldn't really think about that right now, though. Really, there was only one thing to do:  
"RUN!"

The End.


	4. Welcome Aboard!

Star Traks: Silverado

2.4: "Welcome Aboard!"

Personal Log, Stardate 56998.4

"Wow. Um, where do I begin. I've never really bothered to keep a personal log before. Well, anyway. Hi! This is Rengs Aris speaking. I, uh, just graduated from Starfleet Academy with the rank of Ensign, and I'm on my way to my very first assignment!"  
Sound of off-screen person clearing throat.  
"Oh! Um, and this is my wife, Rengs Meris. Smile at the camera, honey! Yeah, so, I graduated the Academy, went home to Bajor for some shore leave, and now we're on our way to our new home! I'm going to be part of the security team and Meris is taking up the role of high school teacher. Well, we know starships don't technically have high schools, but I guess there are enough teenage students on this ship to warrant bringing in somebody to teach at their level. So, yeah, we're going to rendezvous with my new ship, the, um, U.S.S. Silverado, in about 3 hours!"

I leaded back in the pilot seat of the Durango, a Type-9 shuttle, the yellow on my new uniform a sharp contrast to the dark grey. I'm still getting used to the duty uniform after wearing cadet uniforms for the past several years.  
I'm a pretty typical Bajoran, I guess. Since in Bajoran culture the family name comes first, not last as in most species, I've had to deal with being called 'Mr. Aris' on several occasions, rather then the correct address, Mr. Rengs. No. I'm sorry. That's Ensign Rengs now, to you! It's great to be an officer now!  
I grew up on Bajor. I was pretty young when the Cardassian Occupation ended, but still old enough to know how to make a hand grenade from household materials. I was lucky enough that both my parents were still alive at the end of the Occupation, unlike so many of my friends' folks. It was a pretty depressing time.  
I can't remember when it was exactly that I decided I wanted to join Starfleet but I remember what made me start to think about it.  
When I was 16, my parents took me to Deep Space 9, a space station in the Bajoran system administered by the Federation. That was our first trip to see the Celestial Temple. Prophets, that was my first time in space! I remember seeing all the different ships and aliens, and thinking about how cool it would be to actually travel somewhere.  
Of course, my parents could talk all they want about the Prophets and the Celestial Temple, but what they hadn't told me was that to everybody else, what we call the Celestial Temple is just a wormhole, a tunnel leading to a distant part of the galaxy.  
Well, that's not really true. I mean, I knew it was ALSO a wormhole. What I didn't know was that as far as the rest of the galaxy is concerned, it's ONLY a wormhole, and the Prophets are extra-dimensional aliens. Kinda gave me a new perspective. Anyway, then the Dominion War started and one thing lead to another. Next thing I know, I'm sneaking onto a freighter bound for the Rigel system.  
Getting into the Academy wasn't hard. With the Dominion War in full swing, Starfleet wasn't all that picky about applicants. They made sure I wasn't a changeling, checked be sure I wouldn't collapse dead on them or anything, and next thing I knew I was in the fast track program, bound for the front as soon as my combat training could be completed.  
Then the war kinda ended.  
The timing was great, I'll admit. Rather then getting rushed through the Academy and shipping out to the front lines, I was able to finish my full 4-year Academy course at a more reasonable pace. I met my lovely wife, Meris, at a restaurant called 'Sisko's'. C'mon, like any Bajoran would miss the chance to visit the restaurant owned by the Emissary's father!  
So I graduated from the Academy and was assigned to U.S.S. Silverado. My wife signed on as a schoolteacher and I'm sure we'll be able to fit in right away.

"Do you even know anything about this ship? Meris asked me. Her tone wasn't unkind, indeed, it rarely is. Like any good schoolteacher she's great at hiding her true feelings. Still, she was clearly not pleased with me. Come to think of it, I think it started around the time I found out which ship I was assigned to. I think she was hoping I'd get a space station or planetary posting. Maybe even Deep Space 9. But that's not what I wanted.  
"I've read up on it," I replied, "She was part of a Starfleet mission to eliminate some kind of threat involving artificial reality several months ago. I think that's it."  
"You need to watch more vid-screen," Meris said flatly, "I can't believe I just said that! I usually have to tell my students to get off their lazy butts and do something else!"  
I gave her a quick smile.  
"That ship's been on the vid-screen almost as much as the Enterprise! Only it's always something bad. Did you know they pulled her out of a junkyard?"  
"I heard about that," I replied, "But she must have had a really thorough refit. I mean, Starfleet has pretty strict safety standards on their ships. We'll be fine! During the Occupation, we were always re-using and rebuilding whatever we could get our hands on."  
Meris glared angrily at me. Oops. I keep forgetting that she's a little sensitive to Bajor. Growing up on the colonies, she's had lots of trouble with 'real' Bajorans who claim the colonials never did anything to help during the Occupation.  
"I hear they nearly exploded because somebody hooked up the plumbing wrong," Meris said.  
"Rumors," I dismissed, "You know Starfleet; that kind of sloppy behavior would never last long."  
I thought about adding 'you really shouldn't pay so much attention to rumors and gossip'. Then common sense took over and I shut my mouth.

3 hours later:

"U.S.S. Silverado, this is the shuttlecraft Durango," I said over the comm channel, my voice quivering with excitement, "Requesting permission to-"  
"Yeah, yeah," I was cut off by an annoyed sounding male voice, "Shuttlebay 2. That's the rear one, by the way."  
"Um," I was taken aback, "I was kinda hoping to do a quick flyby first. You know, take a look at the ship?'  
"We don't have all f**king day!" the voice snapped, "Just hurry up and-"  
The first voice was interrupted as another male voice, sounding just as annoyed, cut it.  
"For crying out loud, Jall, don't be such a prick! Durango, flyby is granted. Just don't take all day, please."  
"Um, thanks….Durango out."  
Meris and I exchanged glances. Neither of us had been expecting that.  
I lay in a basic flyby course into the helm; overtake the ship from the rear, turn around, make a pass from the front and then dock. Activating the autopilot, I turned my attention to the front window.  
The ship was an Ambassador-class, I already knew that. I smiled smugly at Meris as we passed by the ship's gleaming warp nacelles, skimming over the top of the saucer. I wasn't a big fan of the Ambassador-class personally. They look bulky and old-fashioned compared to the newer ships, but I guess they still do the job. The saucer was round, not oval. The secondary hull was cylindrical, not squat. And the ship actually had a neck between the two! Common sense nowadays dictated that the saucer section of a starship should connect directly to the secondary hull, without putting a vulnerable support strut between them. Still, my wife could say what she wanted to; Silverado clearly looked like she was in great condition to me. Meris simply shook her head with a sigh, turning back to her magazine padd.  
As we turned for our second and final pass, I was able to pick out one of the items that made Silverado a unique ship from a security and tactical standpoint: her pulse phaser cannon. Many ships in Starfleet were being outfitted with them these days, but Silverado's the only Ambassador-class ship I know of to have one. Man, what I wouldn't give to play around with that baby! I'll have to be extra nice to my C.O, try to get some bridge time in!  
Pulling my eyes away from the ship, I guided the shuttle into the lower hanger bay, setting it down gently on the deck. Cycling the systems to standby mode, I followed Meris out the rear hatch, welcoming the chance to stretch out after spending several days cooped up in the shuttle.  
Looking around, the shuttlebay seemed pretty empty. There was a runabout sitting on the deck nearby, the markings revealing her to be the U.S.S. Asessippi. But no technicians and no engineers. Nothing.  
"I was hoping somebody would be here to welcome us," Meris said, peeved.  
"Perhaps we forgot to knock?"  
"Welcome to Silverado," a voice hissed in my ear.  
Instantly my security training took over. I spun, dropping into a crouch and bringing my hands up into a defensive position.  
A slim Andorian stood in front of me. His hair was cut extremely short for an Andorian and he had a thick gold ring running through one antenna.  
"No need to get frightened, pink-skin," he chuckled.  
"It's not nice to sneak up on people!" Meris said, hands on her hips. Feeling my ears turn red, I stood and nodded my greetings.  
"Ensign Rengs," I said, "Um, I was told to report here…"  
"Ensign Pysternzykz," the Andorian replied, "I'm SOO sorry we didn't have a welcoming committee availably, but they were all booked."  
Meris crossed her arms while Pysternzykz walked back towards the exit.  
"Who's going to show us to our quarters!" she demanded.  
"If you need any help, just ask Sylvia," the Andorian called back over his shoulder.  
Meris and I exchanged glances.  
"Where do we find her?" I called, shouting to be heard across the hanger bay.  
"Around," Pysternzykz shouted back, the doors shutting behind him.  
My wife and I exchanged glances.  
"Sylvia?" Meris asked.  
"Calm down, honey," I started pacing. This wasn't what I was expecting! When I did my training stint on the U.S.S. Ontario there had been an officer waiting to greet me, to help me get settled in and to introduce me to my C.O. Now, being left standing in the middle of an empty hanger deck, I was getting a bit nervous.  
"OK," I said finally, "We need to track down 'Sylvia', whoever she is,"  
"What a novel idea!" Meris muttered.  
I turned to her.  
"Meris, we can't start this assignment like this. I'm sorry if you're not happy with something, but can't we make the best of it?" I gave her my best sad puppy-dog face, the one carefully honed by many weekends spent in San Francisco bars, trying to convince the local ladies that a deeply religious people like the Bajorans could be good lovers, too.  
Meris giggled.  
"You look so funny when you do that!" she reached out and pulled me into a hug.  
"I love you," I whispered, giving her a peck on the cheek, "Let's find our quarters so we can…settle in?"  
"You're on!"  
"All right!" I raised my voice, "Computer! Please tell me the location of Sylvia."  
"Sylvia is on Deck 11, Sector 1," replied the computer.  
"So we know where to start," Meris said, walking towards the door.  
I recalled what I could of an Ambassador-class ship's layout.  
"I wonder what she's doing in the computer core," I muttered.

We walked through the corridors towards the turbolift. The ship was looking pretty good for her age; the cream-coloured doors and silver paneling looked like they had been lifted right out of a Galaxy-class ship. The lighting was bright, the overall feeling that of a fancy hotel or apartment corridor.  
"This isn't so bad," I said to Meris.  
"Yeah," she agreed, "I like it much better then the grey they put in the newer ones."  
The turbolift dropped us off on Deck 11. We had actually walked halfway to the computer core when Meris stopped me. She was looking around.  
"Do you notice anything…different?" she asked.  
"No, why?"  
"Look around!"  
I did. Looked just like the Ontario. Muted greys and blues, silver trim, mellow mood lighting.  
Oh.  
"That's never happened before," I said slowly.  
"Is it just this one deck?"  
I shrugged.  
We rushed back to the turbolift, asking to be taken to Deck 10.  
As the doors opened, we were greeted by the site of warm, creamy colours.  
"Deck 9," I requested.  
Cold grey.  
"Deck 8,"  
Warm cream.  
"Maybe we should ask Sylvia about it when we find her," I suggested uneasily.  
Meris just bit her lip.  
We returned to Deck 11 and walked into the small alcove overlooking the locked and secured Computer Core Control room.  
It was empty.  
"Maybe she left while we were admiring the décor," Meris muttered.  
"Computer, where is Sylvia now?" I asked.  
"Sylvia is on Deck 11, Section 1"  
"There's nobody here!" I said, exasperated.  
"Sylvia?" Meris called out.  
"Yes, dear?"  
I looked around, but couldn't see anybody. The room was empty, nothing but racks of isolinear chips and a few banks for bio-neural gel-packs.  
"Um, where are you?" I asked.  
"Right here,"  
"This isn't making any sense," I sighed.  
"Oh, I'm sorry, dears," Sylvia said, "That was a pretty mean prank to play on you! I think I've been spending too much time working with Lieutenant Jall."  
I realized that the voice was coming from the comm-speakers, like the computer or an open comm-channel. It wasn't the ubiquitous computer voice, though. I guessed that somebody was calling us from some other part of the ship.  
"So, where on the ship are you?" I asked.  
"I really am here," Sylvia replied, "Sort of. I am the Federation Starship Silverado, but you may call me Sylvia. I'm technically everywhere, but this is where my consciousness is centered."  
I was speechless. A sentient starship? That I hadn't heard of!  
"I guess you weren't briefed very well," Sylvia sighed, apparently understanding the situation from our lack of response, "I'm so sorry. Ensign Yanick usually greets new crew additions. In theory anyway, we haven't had many additions since we were first launched. But one of the senior staff, not mentioning any names, was playing in the holodeck with the safeties off and sort of broke 14 bones, not to mention tearing 4 ligaments, chipping a fang, receiving 17 flesh wounds and losing 1.43 liters of blood. So it's sort of an emergency and in all the confusion we forgot about your arrival. I don't know why I let Pysternzykz talk me into misleading you, but let's get you settled into your quarters so you can rest for a bit."  
Nodding dumbly, we allowed Sylvia to direct us to one of the residential wings on Deck 10.  
We found ourselves in a reasonably sized one-bedroom suite. It was a bit small compared to accommodations on a Galaxy or Sovereign-class ship, but compared to some of the more utilitarian vessels being turned out nowadays it was pretty spacious. After informing us that larger quarters could be found when we started having children, she departed. I guess. Or stopped paying attention to us. Whatever it is that an always present computer does when it wants to leave you alone.  
Wait…did she mention children?  
Oh, no.  
I quickly offered a prayer to the Prophets, begging them to have let that children remark pass by Meris unnoticed.  
"I've never had a computer imply that I should have a child," Meris said thoughtfully to herself.  
To borrow a human phrase; 'Oh, s**t!'!  
"Meris," I said carefully, "We've discussed this! Starship duty can be dangerous, the last thing we need is a kid! What if something happened to me?"  
"Oh!" Meris accused, "So it's OK if something happens to you and I'm left all by myself?"  
The conversation went downhill from there.

I awoke the next morning on the couch, noticing how the fabric had imprinted its pattern into my skin. The bedroom door was still sealed shut. No doubt Meris would be getting up soon. Probably better to be gone before she got up.  
After showing, I dressed and ate breakfast, checking on my way out the door to be sure my earring was properly attached. One of my Academy roommates had commented on how my earring looked like one his great-grandmother wore. I guess he didn't understand the religious significance.  
I got him very drunk that weekend and left him in the hands of an Andorian body-piercing parlor. He's never going to make that mistake again!  
"Sylvia?" I asked, slightly nervous about invoking the name of the ever-present computer.  
"Yes, Aris, what can I do for you today?"  
"Um, could you tell me who my C.O. is?"  
Sylvia sighed.  
"Wow, they really didn't brief you very well. Your C.O. is Lieutenant Commander T'Parief. Don't let the fangs scare you; he's a very reasonable lizard."  
"And where can I find him?" I was almost afraid to ask.  
"He's in Sickbay."  
"Great," I started walking towards the turbolift. Sylvia cleared her throat.  
"Huh?" I asked. Was I missing something?  
"You're welcome!" Sylvia said, sounding a bit peeved.  
"Oh! Thanks!"

I arrived in Sickbay, only to be greeted by a smiling Terran woman. OK, she was hot, I'll give her that much. Gorgeous body, long auburn hair and a beautiful smile. Actually, her smile was more beatific then beautiful. Reminded me of Kai Winn.  
"Hello," she said, "may the grace and glory of God be with you!"  
Aw crap, a religious nut. Tilting my head, trying hard to hide my earring, I stepped in. It was well known that Bajorans rarely got along with any religious species. Most of them were insanely jealous that we actually had proof of our god's existence.  
"Thanks, I'm Ensign Rengs. I'm looking for Lt. Cmdr. T'Parief."  
"Dr. Noel Wowryk. He's over there," she pointed at a heavily bandaged form on one of the bio-beds.  
"Thanks," I started to move past her.  
"You're Bajoran, aren't you?" she asked cautiously.  
"Yeah, I am,"  
The smile fell off her face and tears started welling in the corners of her eyes.  
"What?" I asked.  
"Oh," she sighed, "Bajorans make me so sad. I hate to see an entire species damned to hell."  
I was shocked.  
"WHAT?" I demanded, angrily this time.  
"No Bajorans have ever embraced God and Jesus," she replied, shaking her head sadly.  
"Of course not," I scoffed, "We've embraced the Prophets. What do we need with your God?"  
Wowryk spun around to face me. I noticed the rest of the Sickbay staff had retreated carefully, giving me pitying looks as they hid.  
"There is only one true God!" she snapped, "And the first Commandment states 'Thou shalt not worship any false gods before me!"  
"The Prophets are NOT false gods!" I forced out from between glanced teeth, "They live in the Celestial Temple! They've sent their Orbs among us! That's a hell of a lot more then your God has ever done for you!"  
"Blasphemer!" Wowryk shook her finger in my face, "He sent His only son to die for our sins!"  
"Which you can't even prove!" I laughed.  
"Get out!" she snapped coldly.  
"But, I-"  
"GET OUT!"  
I dashed out the sickbay, ducking as neural imaging scanner flew straight at my head.

"I want to register a complaint!" I snapped, walking into the security office. The dark haired human behind the desk gave me an annoyed look.  
"And who the hell are you?" he demanded.  
"Ensign Rengs Aris! I just got here!"  
"Oh. Well, welcome to the team. I've been wondering when you'd turn up," he stood. Up and up and up. Towering over me, the giant was at least 6'4. I'm a tall guy, 5'11, with a solid build, but this guy was BIG!  
"Lieutenant Stern," he introduced himself, holding out one hand, "I'm handling things for Cmdr. T'Parief while he's in sickbay.  
I shook his hand when he offered it, following the old Earth customer.  
"So what's your complaint?" he asked.  
"Your doctor-"  
"Say no more," Stern sighed, "Let's see, you're Bajoran. We've never had a Bajoran onboard, so I'm guessing that you and she got into some kind of religious argument?"  
I nodded.  
"Thought so. Did she slap you, or throw something at your head?"  
"Threw something at my head," I said, "You're making me think this has happened before…"  
"Oh, it has," Stern said with a smile, "A few times, actually. Religious matters usually mean you better duck. Hit on her and you're more likely to get slapped. She's surprised us on a couple of occasions, so it's best to stay on guard."  
I was puzzled. That woman was a menace! I said as much to Stern.  
"Eh," he replied, shrugging, "She's a good doctor, and she kinda, well, long story. But if you want to get back at her, here's what you do: sneak into her quarters and put a little ketchup on her sheets. I promise, that will be payback times ten."  
"Ketchup?"  
"Yeah," Stern looked at me funny, "Paste. Red in colour. Made from tomatoes."  
"I know what it is!" I sighed, exasperated, "Look, I don't want petty revenge! I want to know she's not going to attack me or insult my religion again!"  
"We'll have a talk with her," Stern promised.  
There was a moment of silence.  
"So," I asked, "What am I supposed to DO?"  
"About Wowryk?" Stern scratched his head, "I thought we already covered that!"  
"No! I mean, yes, but what do I do for the rest of the day?"  
"Ohhh!" Stern nodded in understanding, "Well, things are pretty quiet right now. Tell ya what. Take the rest of the day to unpack and familiarize yourself with the ship. The guys and I will meet you for dinner; you can meet the rest of the team."

Deciding I'd rather not go back to my quarters to face the wrath of Meris, I skipped ahead to the 'familiarize yourself' part of my schedule. Basically, this meant wandering around the ship, finding out where everything is and pretty much wasting time.  
Fine. If I'm going to be a security officer on this ship, I should know where all the vitals are, right?"  
My first stop was obvious: Engineering!  
Finding it was easy, Sylvia was only too happy to direct me, as long as I said 'please' and 'thank you' anyway. I walked down the corridor, took a turn and found myself at a closed door. I moved to step through-  
-And slammed to a stop as my face struck the closed door, the ridges on my nose scraping painfully against the metal.  
"By the Prophets!" I swore, griping my now flattened face, "What the hell?"  
"I'm sorry," Sylvia said, "But you don't have clearance to enter this section."  
"What?" I demanded, "Why not!"  
"I'm just the computer," she replied, peeved, "I don't know why your clearance hasn't been entered!"  
"Why didn't you say so BEFORE I made it down here?"  
"You didn't ask."  
I banged one fist against the bulkhead in frustration. Fine. So my security clearance wasn't set up yet. That would mean visiting the Ops officer.  
"Rengs to Operations," I said, tapping my comm-badge, "could somebody please-"  
"Not now, I'm busy!" there was a click as the line went dead. I recognized the voice; it was the same one that gave me the rude greeting in the shuttle.  
Fine then. He doesn't wanna talk? I'll just track him down.  
Problem: The Operations Officer was up on the bridge. If the computer's security subsystems wouldn't let me into Engineering without a clearance, I had a snowball's chance in the Fire Cave's of getting onto the bridge.  
"Sylvia," I asked, "Why is it that any alien intruder can march right into Engineering or onto the bridge without any trouble, but you won't let me, an Academy graduated officer, in?"  
"I don't write the rules, honey," Sylvia sighed, "I just play by them."

Getting up to the bridge proved easier than I had thought. Lieutenant Stern was able to grant me a visitor's pass. He warned me that I still needed to deal with the Operations Officer, Lieutenant Jall, to get my permanent clearance setup.  
I was more than a bit excited as I rode the turbolift. The bridge is the center of activity on a starship. The brain, the command center. The place where the Captain and his most competent and senior officers guide Silverado on her trek through the stars. A closely knit bridge crew is a model of efficiency; many hours spent together helping them mesh into a coherent whole.  
I had a brief glance of the bridge, blue-grey upholster blinking control panels and a large main screen before everything went dark.

"Way to go, numb-nuts!" somebody was shouting.  
"Sylvia said he was in the turbolift!" objected another.  
"I was," grumbled a deep, resonant voice, "But I was in the foreword turbolift. This is the aft turbolift. Surely even you can make that distinction!"  
"That 'woman' is becoming a menace!"  
"Don't start! You're the idiot that programmed her in the first place!"  
"But I-"  
"I think he's waking up!" Another voice, female.  
"If you would learn to refrain from such juvenile antics," another female voice, cold and firm, "this kind of thing wouldn't happen!" Reminded me of Lilith from my favorite Earth sit-com.  
"Right!" snapped the second male voice again, "And you locking Crewman Shwaluk up with holograms of the Klingon Women's Wrestling Team wasn't juvenile?"  
"I do believe he actually enjoyed the experience."  
"He was in traction for 6 weeks!"  
"At least take the damn bucket off this guy's head!"  
Bucket?  
I suddenly realized I was sprawled out on the bridge floor. My uniform was cold and damp and there was something on my head. I felt a firm tug.  
"Uh-oh," the second voice again. I finally identified it as Lieutenant Jall.  
"What do you mean, uh-oh?" demanded the first voice. The Captain, maybe?"  
"Um, uh-oh as in 'Uh-oh, I think it's stuck," replied Jall. Another tug, this time I cried out in pain as my neck twisted.  
"Yeah, definitely stuck," reported Jall.  
"Don't worry, whoever you are," the first female voice again, "We'll take care of you!" I felt a reassuring hand on my arm  
"Oh, wow!" the woman said happily, her hand gently squeezing, "Fifebee, come feel his biceps!"  
"I will not, thank you," Lilith, or Fifebee, as she was apparently known, again.  
"Do you mind?" I tried to say. With my nose and chin rammed up against the side of the bucket I really couldn't say anything.  
The hand relocated to my chest before being pulled away.  
"For crying out loud, Trish," the Captain said, sounding clearly exasperated, "Can't you wait until we get the damned bucket off his head before you start feeling him up?"  
"And not even then," rumbled the deep voice.  
"Oh, right," Trish said, sounding sheepish, "Sorry dear. Would it make you feel better if I felt you up instead?"  
"Immensely"  
"Oh, for Pete's sake!" somebody else groaned, "Get a room!"  
"AND GET THIS THING OFF MY HEAD!" I tried to should. It came out more like "ARGEGNEFAED!"  
"If you rotate the bucket 12 degrees on the X axis and apply 10 kilograms of pressure," Fifebee said, "You have a 85 percent chance of removing it successfully."  
"OK," Trish said, "T'Parief, you wanna do this?"  
"Did I mention," Fifebee continued, "that you also have a 54 percent chance of breaking his neck at the 2nd vertebrae?  
"Maybe we should get him down to Dr. Wowryk," Trish said worriedly.  
"You think?" somebody asked, "Y'know, that just MIGHT be a good idea?'  
Dr. Wowryk?  
To quote another Earth phrase:  
"F**K!"

"Do we even know who this guy is?" Wowryk was asking as she carefully started cutting the bucked off my head with a small laser scalpel.  
"Nope," the voice I presumed to be the captain sighed, "He can't talk with that thing on there,"  
"He doesn't look familiar below the neck," Wowryk commented.  
"It a wonder you know what ANY man looks like below the neck," he muttered.  
"Don't you start with me!" Wowryk snapped, "I am a doctor! It's my job to be familiar with the bodies of everybody on this ship! Whether I like it, or not!"  
"Bad day?"  
"You could say that. This Bajoran prick came waltzing in here, blabbering about his precious 'Prophets', never mind that everybody know there's only one true God-"  
"Spare us the televangelist bit," groaned Jall.  
"I didn't know we had any Bajorans on board," the Captain muttered.  
"He's new," Jall said, "Remember? This morning? A shuttle?"  
"Oh yeah. Right after T'Parief had his little 'training accident'. Although I don't see how having a piano fall on his head could possibly be involved in security training."  
Piano?  
"Between you and me," Jall said to the Captain, "he's been watching too many cartoons."  
"Noted. Any luck, Doc?"  
"Almost done," Wowryk, "Don't worry, the mercy of God will pull you through," she patted my shoulder reassuring. I could track her progress with the laser scalpel now as a bright light between my eyes.  
Finally, the bucket was off.  
I was greeted by several faces leaning over me. A tall, slim human male with Captain's pips, a dark haired male with some strange Terran ethic look wearing an anti-grav suit, a shorter blond girl with a big grin and my old friend Dr. Wowryk.  
"YOU!" Wowryk shrieked, waving the laser scalpel in my face, "I TOLD YOU TO GET LOST!"  
"Woah!" Stafford shouted, grabbing the madwoman by the wrists and pulled the scalpel away, much to my relief, "Watch it, Doc! "  
"HERETIC!" she screamed.  
"C'mon, Noel," Stafford said soothingly, pulling her away, "Why don't you just step into your office for a minute and pray for his soul or something? We'll take care of this."  
Tossing her head, Wowryk allowed herself to be led out.  
"He's cute," the blond girl, Trish remarked to the remaining officer.  
"Yeah," I recognized the voice of Lieutenant Jall, "He is!"  
"Sorry about that," Stafford said coming back from Wowryk's office, "She's just been a little stressed lately, um, Ensign…" He scratched his head, "I'm sorry, I don't recognize you."  
"Rengs Aris," I replied, "I just got here. I was trying to find somebody to setup my clearance so I could take a look around."  
"Oh," Stafford said, "Jall will take care of that, Ensign Aris,"  
"I will?" Jall asked.  
"Yes," Stafford said, "you will. Now!"  
"Um, sir?" I piped up, "It's actually Ensign Rengs,"  
"Huh? Oh. Right. Bajoran. My bad."  
"Jeffery to Stafford," The officer on the comm had a distinct accent that I identified as Irish. I was rather proud of my ability to recognize Terran accents.  
"Stafford here," the Captain replied.  
"Ah found the problem with the lateral sensor array. Somebody dumped chicken soup all over the control circuitry."  
"Nice," Stafford sighed, "How long to fix?"  
"About an hour to replace the circuits. The carpet's a total loss, though."  
"Understood. Once you're done, we'll get underway, Stafford out."  
The Captain turned to me, extending a hand and giving me a wry grin.  
"Welcome to Silverado," he said.

"I want a transfer." I said flatly.  
I had returned to my quarters, finding Meris in a much friendlier mood than she was in the night before. I guess her day had gone better than mine. Not that that was saying much!  
"I'm sorry, Ensign," the dispatch officer on my screen said, matching my tone, "but that's impossible!"  
"Why?"  
"The only reason we were able to send you out there in the first place was because that shuttle had to be delivered," the bland looking man explained, "If you want off that ship, you'll have to wait until her next scheduled stopover at a Starbase."  
"Which is when?"  
The dispatcher consulted a padd on his desk.  
"Saratoga….Secondprize…Selcardenfrugan," he looked up from his padd, "What the hell kind of name is 'Selcardenfrugan' for a starship, anyway?" Without waiting for a response he turned back to his padd.  
"Ahh, Silverado. Two more months," he set the padd aside, "I suggest you try to get settled in there. If you still want off in two months, you'll need to take it up with your C.O."  
"But-"  
"Happy Zlarkezdeth Day," he cut the channel.  
I was stunned.  
"I don't understand," I muttered, mostly to myself.  
"Zlarkezdeth Day," Meris cut in, "It's a Gorn holiday. It marks the death of Zlarkezdeth."  
"What?"  
"Zlarkezdeth. He was a great scholar and pacifist. Introduced sweeping reforms to Gorn society and-"  
"So they mourn his death?"  
"Not really," Meris sighed, "They celebrate it. He was the most hated man in Gorn history."  
I shook my head.  
"I don't care about Gorn holidays!" I snapped, "I want off this madhouse!"  
"I admit," Meris said carefully, "I was a bit concerned, too. But I met a most interesting woman when I was touring the classrooms, Madame Schoonbaert. We had a delightful lunch and she's offered to teach me Terran dance lessons."  
"There's a treat," I muttered, "I was attacked twice by a madwoman, led on a wild goose chase across the ship and spent my afternoon with a bucket stuck to my head!"  
Meris looked at me for a moment.  
"Drinking with your security buddies already?" she chuckled, shaking her head, "You rascal! Anyway, somebody named Stern called to remind you about dinner. Hurry up and get dressed, we're meeting them in the Officer's Mess in 20 minutes." She disappeared into the bedroom.  
We?  
"Um," I started "Meris, I think this was meant to be a guy thing…y'know, meet the team?"  
"Nonsense," Meris called, "Now, you're uniform is already laid out. Hurry up!"

Meris and I arrived at the Officer's Mess to find the evening meal in full swing. Most of Alpha shift, that is, the day shift, had come off shift ready for a bite to eat.  
Silverado was a pretty big ship. Back when her class had been conceived, it had been THE biggest ship class designed. The Galaxy-class ships were bigger now, of course, and I'd heard rumors about a new mega-ship being designed. The Outback, or Outfielder. Something like that. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that on a ship of over 800, you need a fair bit of space along with the facilities to service a crew of that size. Silverado has two main mess halls; one for officers and one for everybody else. Of course, since everybody has replicators in their quarters it seemed a bit excessive. Extensive studies though had shown that while most crewmembers preferred to have breakfast alone in their quarters, they also preferred to have the afternoon and evening meals with friends and colleagues.  
The hall itself was standard. A few windows looked out at the stars, while on the wall opposite stood a bank of replicators. One of the side walls also had a serving counter and a door that presumably lead to a real kitchen. The dozen or so tables were occupied by Alpha shift officers. The Captain was eating with the Chief Engineer and the Conn Officer, Trish. At one end of the room the guys from Security had pulled three tables together.  
I quickly noticed that none of the other security officers had brought their girlfriends or wives along.  
I turned to relay this observation to Meris, only to find she was already approaching the table, leaving me with little choice but to follow.  
"Runabout," Lieutenant Stern was saying, "C cup, Orion."  
"I can beat that," chucked a stocky guy from down the table, "Venture-class scout. B cup. Roznian."  
Commander T'Parief was sitting at the head of the table saying nothing, an amused look on his face.  
"C'mon, Simmons!" Stern objected, "A B cup can't beat a C cup! A C cup is bigger, no matter what planet you're on!"  
"Yeah," Simmons said smugly, "But women from Rozniak have 4!"  
"Were we talking quantity or quality here?" wondered the tall blond guy from further down the table, turning to the huge, red-furred, headless being sitting next to him. The behemoth shrugged wordlessly.  
"Yeah," the blond muttered, "I guess you don't care much for breasts, since women on Baruda don't have any!"  
"What is with that, anyway?" demanded a wiry, Klingon youth, "Breasts are defining point of a woman!"  
"That is SO sexist!" Meris muttered beside me.  
"Hey, let's ask the new guy!" Stern said, noticing me at last, "Hey, Rengs, what class of shuttle is best for picking up chicks?"  
"You should know," Simmons chuckles, gesturing at Meris, "You're the only one of us that's managed to get one!"  
Meris raised one eyebrow.  
"Sure you wouldn't rather eat in our quarters?" I whispered.  
"No," she whispered back, "But I'll take a table over there. You can eat with the rest of the Neanderthals. Have fun!"  
"Wait!" I hissed, "I'm coming with you!"  
"No you're not!" she hissed back, "You will socialize with your new crewmates, and you will have fun doing it, by the Prophets!"  
"Yes, ma'am," I muttered, turning back to the table.  
"Wha-psshhhhh!" laughed Simmonds, imitating the sound of a whip.  
"At least I have a chance of getting laid tonight," I said flatly as I sat down.  
"Excellent!" laughed the Klingon, giving me a slap on the back that nearly introduced my face to the tabletop, "At least one of you weaklings can behave like a proper man!"  
"I thought Bajorans didn't care about that kind of thing?" chuckled the blond.  
This again.  
"Just because we're a religious people doesn't mean we're not good in bed!" I muttered, taking my seat.  
"OK, introductions," Stern said, clapping his hands, "Everybody, this is Rengs Aris, our newest team member. He's going to be specializing in energy munitions."  
He started going around the table, introducing the other members of the Alpha  
shift security squad. Ensign Simmons was in charge of explosive munitions, stun grenades and the like. Ensign Dar'ugal, the large furry creature, was an expert in strategy and counter-strategy. The blond, also known as Ensign Marsden, focused on hostage negotiation while Stern, aside from being the Deputy Security Chief, was the team sharpshooter. The Klingon was introduced as Crewman Keklar. Surprisingly enough, he's our hand-to-hand combat specialist. Commander T'Parief, as Security Chief, was a little of everything with a focus on hand-to-hand combat. Really, how do these people expect to break the stereotypes associated with their races if they take on such stereotypical roles? Of course, this was coming from a Bajoran who specializes in weaponry.  
Silverado had been out in space long enough for the security team to have seen action on several occasions. A mishap here and a ruptured plasma conduit there had, Stern proudly informed me, caused the rest of the crew to nickname them 'The Hazardous Team.'  
There were dozens of other security members, of course. Everybody at the table had their counterparts on the Delta and Gamma shifts, along with thirty or so 'redshirts'; lower ranking security officers and crewmen who served as general security support. The security department wore yellow markings on their uniforms these days, red being reserved for command staff, but back in the 23rd century red had been the colour of security and operations and the nickname had stuck. Those of us at the table represented the security specialists on the ship and I considered myself proud to be a part of the team so quickly after finishing at the Academy.  
"Do you think I could hit the back of Stafford's head from here?" Stern asked, readying a pile of mashed potatoes on a makeshift spoon catapult.  
"I would not suggest it," T'Parief said calmly.  
THWACK!  
I watched in horror as the white blob sailed across the room, over Meris' head to come to a perfect landing on the back of the Captain's short, spiky hair.  
"Nice shot!" Simmons laughed, giving Stern a high-five.  
"Now you've done it," T'Parief sighed as Stafford's head whipped around, fire in his eyes, "The challenge has been issued."  
Challenge? There was no way the Captain would respond to such idiotic behavior.  
I was quickly proven wrong as Stafford grabbed a dinner bun off Yanick's plate and hurtled it at the security table. The bun smacked Stern between the eyes, bounced, and came to a rest in Kreklar's blood wine, splashing the vile fluid across his uniform. The Klingon's eyes bulged.  
"I HAVE BEEN DISHONORED!" he roared happily, "TODAY IS A GOOD DAY TO DIE!"  
He grabbed an entire rokeg blood pie from where it sat conveniently on the table in front of him. He threw it with such force that it sailed far over the Captain's head, splattering all over an Andorian officer sitting at the next table. The Andorian responded with a vlexnar heart, the bloody organ widely missing both parties and coming to a landing right on Meris's lap.  
As the food fight erupted from all sides, I dived under the table, my last sight that of my wife being caught in the crossfire.  
I guess I wouldn't be getting any that night after all.

"Behavior unbecoming an officer, vandalism of Starfleet property, waste of Starfleet resources,"  
Those involved in the 'Battle of the Potatoes', as it was becoming known, were lined up in Cargo Bay 1. With the number of people involved it was obvious to everybody that the conference lounge wouldn't be big enough. Meris, of course, had been excused along with the other civilian family members who had been present.  
The officer delivering out punishment was introduced as Commander Matthew Noonan, First Officer. This human was disturbingly pale, with jet-black hair and gentle but defined features. He moved with a fluid grace that was as disturbing as it was graceful. Something about him reminded me of…what? I suddenly couldn't recall, like a cloud had come over my mind. What was I worried about? He was a Starfleet officer, there was absolutely nothing abnormal about him in any way.  
I had noticed that Captain Stafford was among those of us lined up for Noonan's little lecture. My opinion of him as the ruler of this madhouse rose a notch; he may be willing to play in the dirt with the rest of us, but at least he was willing to pay the price.  
"So," Noonan went on calmly, "It has been decided that as punishment for your participation in the 'Battle of the Potatoes', you will assist in the cleaning and repair of the Officer's Mess, starting immediately. Good evening."  
He left.  
"Well, that's a relief," I muttered to Marsden as we left the cargo bay, "Something like that at the Academy and we'd be running laps for a week!"  
Marsden shrugged.  
"What are they gonna do? Old spooky knows everybody's bored stiff, we haven't found anything interesting in weeks! Besides, with the Captain involved there's no way he'd go for a harsher punishment.  
My opinion of Captain Stafford dropped back down to its previous level.

One month later:

I stumbled as the ship shook around me, grabbing onto the bulkhead to keep from being tossed to my feet. Looking out the conference room windows I caught a fleeting glimpse of the enemy vessel as it flashed by Silverado.  
I was settled more comfortably in my new assignment that I had been initially, although Meris was still fitting in far better then me. She found herself so overwhelmed with the task of bringing knowledge and discipline to the teenagers on board that the antics of the Starfleet crewmembers, which seemed horrible breaches of professionalism to me, were completely irrelevant to her.  
I was 'on deck', as the junior officers say. The ship was on Red Alert. We'd delivered Federation Ambassador Redu to the Hometis system, where he was needed to negotiate the end to a decades old war. Unfortunately, the inhabitants of Hometis 4 were holding him hostage while the inhabitants of Hometis 5, convinced we had betrayed them, had sent 2 of their attack ships to warn us off.  
The ship shuddered again under a direct hit, sparks flying from wall display panel, several of the starship models falling over in their display case.  
I, Ensign Burke, Ensign Pye, Ensign Day and several other junior officers were basically sitting in the conference lounge, waiting our turn. Our job was to wait close by in case somebody on the bridge was injured and unable to man their station. At that point, one of us would be called out and another junior officer would be called up to the conference lounge from below decks in case we also were injured. An open comm-link to the bridge kept us abreast of developments.  
Out the aft facing windows, I could see the remaining Hometian ship (the other had been disabled) as it turned for another attack run. Energy bolts leapt from the ships weapons arrays, smashing against Silverado's weakening shields. Over the comm I could hear Lieutenant Jall shouting that holographic systems were offline.  
"Sciences, you're up!" Sylvia snapped, her usually cheerful voice rushed and just a bit afraid. Ensign Burke immediately ran for the door, ready to take the place of the presumably defunct holographic officer, Lieutenant Fifebee.  
"Shields down to 30%" T'Parief called over the channel.  
"Yanick! Lateral thrusters!" Stafford was ordering, "170 degrees one the X axis, point the cannon at them!"  
The ship shook again.  
"Hull breach on Deck 11!" Jall called out, "Emergency force fields down to 76%"  
"Return fire!" Noonan called out.  
The ship shook again, even harder than before. The link to the bridge dissolved in static.  
"Operations, Auxillary Starboard, Engineering and Tactical!" Sylvia shouted over the groan and hiss of damaged systems, "On the double!"  
That was me! I jumped out of my seat, following Day and two officers I didn't recognize onto the bridge.  
The bridge must have taken a direct hit. A flickering force field had sealed off a breach in the starboard side ceiling, stars were visible through the opening. Bodies were scattered across the floor. Ensign Yanick clung to her helm console, a nasty bump on her forehead. The starboard Auxillary console was a shattered ruin, as was the body of whichever poor soul had been working there. On the aft deck the massive form of Commander T'Parief's was sprawled on the carpet. I noticed with relief that he was breathing and quickly turned my attention to my board.  
Shields were down, torpedoes were offline and one of the power conduits that fed the pulse phaser just happened to run through the breached area of Deck 11. I quickly rerouted power through secondary conduits on Deck 10.  
"Tactical!" Stafford shouted, not bothering to check who was there, only that somebody had taken the post, "Target their engines! Fire at will!"  
I locked the targeting scanners on the Hometian ship's aft section and let loose with a full phaser barrage. I managed to breach their shields, but the shot that should have taken out their engine assembly went wide as they ducked into evasive maneuvers, skimming past our port nacelle and delivering a direct torpedo hit to the armored upper section of the nacelle.  
"Direct hit to the port nacelle!" Day called out from Operations, the body of Lieutenant Jall collapsed on the deck but also still breathing, "Minor hull damage,"  
"Bridge to Engineering," Stafford called, "Simon, we could really use torpedoes about now!"  
"Not gonna happen, sir," Jeffery called back, "Ye'll just have to improvise!"  
"Tactical," Stafford called out, "Any bright ideas?"  
I watched as the enemy ship maneuvered behind us, careful to stay directly aft of the ship where there was a small gap in phaser coverage. I thought back to some of their earlier maneuvers, an idea forming.  
"Spin 180 degrees and line up the cannon," I started.  
"We've tried that!" Stafford said, "Didn't work!"  
"Right," I shouted as the ship shook again, "But be ready to execute a 90 degree port roll on my mark!"  
"What the hell?" Stafford said, "Yanick, you heard the man!"  
"Spinning, sir!"  
I watched my console carefully as the ship spun like a top, Yanick doing her best to aim the powerful but fixed-position phaser cannon at the enemy ship. As before, the alien ship quickly dodged to port, staying clear out of the cannon's path.  
"MARK!" I shouted.  
With reflexes much quicker than I would have expected from her hair color, Yanick tilted the ship until it stood on one end, the phaser cannon still pointing uselessly away from the enemy ship.  
But that cannon isn't Silverado's only weapon.  
The enemy ship's new trajectory, combined with Silverado's rotation, took them right over the top of the saucer section, an area best avoided due to the 5 separate phaser arrays ringing its upper surface.  
I fired all 5 arrays together, 3 of the 5 beams impacting hard on the alien ship's unshielded hull. The strain on the ship's power grid meant that the phaser blasts weren't even close to full power, but 3 combined still packed a hell of a punch. With a burst of light the vessel exploded like a balloon struck by a pin.  
"YES!" Stafford called out, "Nice shot, Ensign," he turned to look at who had taken over Tactical, "Um, you. Rings?"  
"Rengs," I said with a smile.  
"Right, good work!" he turned to his First Officer, "We have an Ambassador to rescue! Get the injured down to Sickbay and get somebody up here to patch our roof."  
"Expecting rain, sir?" Noonan asked with a grin.  
"Snow, actually," Stafford chuckled, "Ensign Rengs, keep a close eye out for any more of those ships."

As the transporter beam released me, I immediately looked around our entry point for enemy soldiers, even though Pysterzykz had assured us the room he was being us into was empty.  
He didn't tell us it was an empty dungeon. Whips and chains hung from the walls while a massive cross with wrist and ankle cuffs dominated the center of the room.  
Stern, Dar'ugal, Marsden, Keklar, Simmons and I had beamed down to the Royal Palace on Hometis 4, hoping to rescue the Ambassador. Our plan was simple; home in on the only Kataran life-sign on the planet, blast the nearby interference generator that was preventing us from beaming him up and beam back to the ship. The Captain and First Officer had already tried negotiation with the Hometian King to no effect.  
"Why are there no prisoners?" Keklar demanded softly, "There is no point to an empty dungeon!"  
Simmons had moved carefully to a side table, picking up a cylindrical rubber object.  
"What kind of torture device is this?" he wondered.  
Stern looked over.  
"I think we're in somebody's playpen," he observed.  
Simmons frowned for a moment. As Stern's words sunk in he made a face and immediately dropped the object.  
"Sick, man!"  
"This way," Stern consulted his tricorder.  
We quickly left the dungeon/playroom and moved down the corridor. We were about halfway to the Ambassador's position when we met the first guards.  
Their first shot hit Marsden square in the chest, the green bolts flinging him backward.  
Being the energy weapon expert, I offered my assessment.  
"Regulan StunGuns," I said quickly, "Non-fatal, but tomorrow morning he's going to wish he was dead,"  
"No worse than a hangover," Stern grunted, firing back at the guards, "They're probably scared the Federation will retaliate if they kill any of us!"  
"Meris would be thrilled," I muttered. Big mistake. Never think of loved ones in the heat of battle!  
We dispatched the last guard. Moving quickly past their position, Dar'ugal pointed at the guard's hand. A small communications device was sitting on the floor, not six inches away.  
"It's a fair bet everybody knows we're here," Simmons said.

Resistance grew thicker as we moved deeper into the palace, Dar'ugal dragging Marsden behind him like a sack of roots. We had fought our way to the entrance of the Great Hall when Simmons stiffened, hit in the back by a stungun. I spun around, stunning his attacker in turn. But we were now faced with a fight on two fronts, and our hostage negotiator was unconscious and drooling all over himself. Stern and Dar'ugal held the front line while Keklar and I face the rear.  
"Any bright ideas?" Stern called, ducking as a stun beam shot over his head.  
"Yes!" Kreklar called, "I wish to take vacation on Quo'nos this year!"  
"Great!" Stern shouted, "Rengs, you?"  
"Take out the interference generator!" I called back, firing at a Hometian guard and missing. A stun grenade clattered to a rest less than a foot away from me. With lightening reflexes, Dar'ugal grabbed it and whipped it back the way it came. There was a sudden lack of weapon's fire from that direction.  
"No s**t!" Stern said, nailing his own guard with a phaser blast between the eyes, "But what about your vacation?"  
"Oh," I shrugged, "I was thinking of Risa,"  
Dar'ugal roared in disapproval.  
"He's right," Stern said, tossing his rifle to Dar'ugal and patting down Simmons' body, "Risa's no place for a married man, unless you leave the wife at home." Dar'ugal gripped a phaser in each hand, mowing down targets and ducking as return first passed through the spot just vacated by his head. Well, chest. Barudan's don't have heads.  
"Um, no," I watched as Stern continued patting down Simmons, slipping his hand into the Ensign's pocket.  
"Lieutenant, is this really the time for foreplay?" I asked.  
Stern pulled out a plasma grenade and smiled.  
"Oh,"  
"He never leaves the ship without it!" Stern smiled. He poked his head over his makeshift barricade, looking for and finding the device that prevented us from beaming the Ambassador to the ship. He nodded at Kreklar.  
"Kreklar to Silverado," the Klingon barked, his strong accent making the words sound like an obscenity, "Prepare to beam us and the Ambassador aboard!"  
"You throw that thing," I shouted, "And you might kill some of them!"  
Stern shrugged and pulled out his tricorder, tapping the device for about 10 seconds. When he spoke, the tricorder amplified his voice, drowning out the weapons fire.  
"ATTENTION HOMETIAN FORCES!" Stern's voice bellowed, matter-of-fact, "I'M GOING TO BLOW UP YOUR INTERFERENCE GENERATOR NOW, SO IF YOU DON'T WANNA DIE, MOVE IT!"  
He tossed the grenade at a fancy, blinking device, Hometians scrambling away just before the grenade and device went up in a brilliant flash.  
"Beam us up!" Kreklar called.  
My last sight before I was beamed away was of 3 dozen angry Hometian soldiers storming our former position.

"Excellent work," T'Parief was saying, a large patch of shiny scales the only sign of his previous injury, "The Ambassador has been recovered, this ship is safe, and the Hometians have agreed to conduct negotiations over subspace radio. You have all done well."  
"And I'm sure the fact that you were lying in Sickbay was a great contribution," Simmons chuckled.  
"You and I, hand to hand, 17:00 hours," T'Parief said calmly.  
"Aw, f**k"!  
"We are standing by outside the Hometian system until such time as the Ambassador has completed his negotiations," T'Parief continued, "We have stood down from Red Alert. You are all off duty until tomorrow." He turned and limped out the door.  
"Poor guy," Marsden commented, rubbing his sore chest, "That's twice in one month now that he's been put out of action."  
"No small feat," I murmured to myself.

I wandered the ship before returning to my quarters. Repair teams were hard at work patching hull, replacing systems and enduring Sylvia's constant 'advice'. Useful tidbits like 'ODN conduits have higher priority than corridor carpets!' and 'Will SOMEBODY clear out the mess on Deck 11?'. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was somebody's mother rather than a sophisticated computer program. I passed a pair of techs in environmental suits getting ready to go through the port airlock, a sled of equipment tethered behind them. I finally reached our quarters on Deck 10.  
I immediately collapsed on the couch, my earring jangling loudly. I'd already showered the battle grime off in the security locker room, otherwise Meris would have immediately booted me off the furniture.  
As a pleasant surprise, Meris was in her happy, loving wife mood, rushing to enfold me in her arms.  
"I'm so glad you made it back safely!" she breathed, "You're all right? Everybody's OK?"  
"Yeah," I said, "Marsden and Simmons were stunned, but we're all going to be OK."  
"Thank the Prophets," Meris sighed. She was quiet for a moment, then pulled a padd out of her pocket.  
"This, um, came for you earlier today," she said, handing it to me.  
It was an offer of reassignment. A security posting aboard the U.S.S. Ossington. I showed it to Meris.  
"Well," she said neutrally, "It's what you wanted, isn't it? Same job, different ship."  
I thought about it, moving to a new ship, a new crew. No insane Doctors, no food fights, no buckets and a proper, professional crew.  
But wasn't that what I was expecting from Silverado? I was sure surprised there! Who was to say the Ossington would be any better? I could be jumping out of one frying pan and into a fire.  
And what about Stern, Marsden and the guys? I was really starting to mesh with the rest of the team, to respect their talents along with their eccentricities. In fact, I could apply that to the whole ship! Captain Stafford, who had struck me as something of an incompetent ass, handled himself really well in battle, and the crew was certainly loyal to him. Maybe it was all right to do things differently, so long as the job was done.  
My wife? I could tell by the reluctant way she handed me the padd that she didn't want to leave. Why would she? She'd settled in quicker than I had, forming friendships and bonding with her students.  
I set the padd on the tabletop and pointedly hit the 'off' switch.  
"Let's give this one a little more time," I said to her with a smile.  
"There's another project that we could devote a little more time to," she said with a playful grin, pulling me towards the bedroom.  
Yup, definitely the right choice!

End


	5. Probably Doomed

Star Traks: Silverado

2.5 "Probably Doomed"

Captain's Log: Stardate 57008.4

"We've been ordered to report to the Federation Propulsion Laboratory on Mouvit 4 to assist with the testing of a new drive system. Right. Whose bright idea was that? Name me ONE new drive system Starfleet's come up with in the past 200 years that actually worked!"  
"On a completely unrelated note, I'm glad to report that several months of intensive therapy has mostly cured us of most of the neuroses left over from the body switching thing. Oh, sure, there's still some residual tension here and there, but for the most part, everything's back to normal."

"Get a room, you two!" Seven Steiger snapped as he stood over the corner table at which Ensign Yanick and Lieutenant Commander T'Parief were firmly lip-locked.  
Yanick forced herself free.  
"Go away!" she managed to force out before being drawn back into T'Parief's embrace.  
"OK, I think it's time you two left," Steven said firmly, taking T'Parief by the arm and tugging.  
Nothing happened. Try as he might, Steven couldn't budge the massive security chief one inch.  
"Steiger to Security," he called out, frustrated, "I need somebody to throw T'Parief and Yanick out of my lounge!"  
"We'll be right…wait, did you say T'Parief?" came the voice from Security.  
"YES!"  
"Sorry buddy, you're on your own!" the channel closed.  
"Forget it!" Steven grumbled, moving off to serve a young, non-kissing couple seated closer to the bar.

"What is it with girls and muscles?" Jeffery wondered as he sat with Stafford and Fifebee, watching as Yanick and T'Parief continued their public display of affection.  
"Good question," Stafford said, stirring his hot chocolate with a chocolate stir-stick. It may not be winter on Silverado, but something about stardates in the low digits put him in a winter mood, "I mean, he's ugly, he's got scales, fangs and claws, and they're not even the same species!"  
"That remark could be construed as a speciesist comment, Captain," Fifebee cautioned.  
"What species?" Jeffery wondered, "He's the only one of his kind!"  
"But why would a nice girl like want a scaly, red-eyed lizard instead of a tall, handsome young man like me?" Stafford wondered.  
"Were you recently rejected by a woman?" Fifebee inquired politely.  
"Well, no," Stafford admitted.  
"A man?"  
"NO!"  
"Then why the self pity?"  
"Watching couples depresses me," Stafford muttered.  
"That's funny," Jeffery commented wryly, "Anytime ye had a girl aboard the Exeter ye didn't have any problem showing off to the rest of us!" he turned to Fifebee, "Ah come into the lounge one evening and he's got his hand-"  
"Thank you, Simon!" Stafford snapped.  
"In ancient times," Fifebee started, "human females had to rely on men for protection. Thus it was in their best interests to choose a man who was strong and able to defend her. Muscles are a sign of strength."  
"That you, Professor," Jeffery muttered.  
"You asked!" Fifebee shot back.  
"Oh," Jeffery scratched his head, "Ah guess Ah did. Sorry."  
"Why do you care?" Stafford asked, stretching back in his comfortable armchair, chewing his stir-stick, "you've got your very own frigid little woman already! You don't need to attract any more!"  
Jeffery looked uncomfortable.  
"Ah don't want this to get around," Jeffery whispered, "But Ah'm thinking of breaking up with her."  
Stafford immediately sprayed hot chocolate out of both nostrils and proceeded to start choking on his stir-stick.  
"Why would you do that?" Fifebee asked, ignoring Stafford's wheezes as he gestured frantically for somebody to pat him on the back.  
"Ye remember a few months back, when we got our bodies back?" Jeffery asked, still whispering, "The way she created doorways for us in her castle?"  
"Yes, of course," Fifebee replied calmly as Stafford started to turn purple.  
"My door was in the dungeon," Jeffery sighed.  
"Heya Captain, how's it hanging?" Jall asked as he walked past, slapping Stafford hard on the back. The slightly melted, slightly chewed chocolate stir-stick flow out his open mouth and onto the table.  
"In the dungeon," Fifebee mused.  
"Yeah," Jeffery said, "Counselor Yvonnokoff agrees that it could be a sign that she sees me as a submissive partner."  
"You are," Stafford gasped, face returning to it's normal colour, "It doesn't take some famous shrink to figure that one out!"  
"There is an alternative," Fifebee said, her hair graying slightly as she pulled on the personality of and elderly 22nd century psychologist, "perhaps it is her subconscious expressing it's desire to keep you safely away from danger."  
"Aye," Jeffery nodded, "Yvonnokoff said that too,"  
"Safe from danger?" Stafford snorted, "That woman IS danger!"  
"Aye, that's why I'm thinking of breaking up with her."  
"Go for it!" Stafford advised.  
"Captain," Fifebee cut in, "you are biased. You must allow Jeffery to come to this decision on his own, without letting your personal dislike of the doctor interfere."  
"Stop being so…so…common sensical!" Stafford fumed.  
"'Sensical'", Fifebee said flatly, "is not a real word."  
"It's Pakled for sense, um, like," Stafford said indignantly, "Yes. Sense-like."  
"Captain," Fifebee gave Stafford a pitying smile, "I'm a hologram. Webster's 'Terran to Pakled/Pakled to Terran Dictionary' is part of my database. Sensical is not a Pakled word."  
"Stupid holograms," Stafford muttered softly.  
"We have excellent hearing, too,"  
"DAMMIT!"

"So Fred, please remember to talk zings out vith your neighbor next time, before you knock him over ze head vith a bat'leth," Counselor Eva Yvonnokoff, also knows as 'Dr. Vonna' said, smiling at the holo-cam in her small studio, "I zink ve have time for anozer call. Bart, who do ve have?"  
Crewman Bartholomew Gibson stopped fiddling with his nose ring and tapped the console in the tiny studio control booth.  
"Uh, we have 'Craig' on channel 1," Bart replied, "He's having trouble at work."  
"Hello, Craig," Vonna said smiling, "I am here for you."  
"Well, see, it's like this," came a male voice over the channel, "My boss is testing out this new starship propulsion system. He's convinced everything is going to work, but I-"  
Bart pointed at the studio chronometer.  
"I am so very sorry Craig," Vonna apologized, "but ve are all out of time. If you vould stay on ze line, I vill be more zan happy to assist you after ze show is finished. Once again, zis is Dr. Vonna, Associated Vorlds Network, wishing everybody a nice evening."  
The 'on air' light went dark.  
"Good show, Doc," Bart said as he stepped out of the control booth, "I especially like the way you told that chick with claustrophobia to try spending the day in a phone booth."  
"Great," muttered Yvonnokoff, "It eez so good to know zat a punk like yourself confirms my carefully thought out solution."  
She looked down at her panel. The little light that should have meant that somebody, namely Craig, was waiting on channel 1 was dark.  
"Bart, vhat happened to zat last caller?"  
"Oh," Gibson said twisting one finger into his left ear, "He probably got cut-off when I shut down the link to AWN."  
Struggling to restrain her temper, Yvonnokoff took a deep breath.  
"Vhy don't you just go play vith your weird little friend, Crewman Shwaluk, jas?" she hissed.  
"Don't knock it till you try it, Doc," Gibson snidely remarked on his way out the door, his too-big uniform pants sliding halfway down his hips before he could yank them back up again.  
Eva shuddred delicately. Gibson insisted that he had carefully calculated the waist size of his trousers to allow for maximum comfort, keeping them just small enough to make it virtually impossible for them to slip right off, but if his trousers had slipped down any further, she would have had to call into her own show for therapy!

"Hey, monkey," Bart said as he slipped into Storage Room 26-21. Situated on the lowest deck of the ship, the room was unused, unneeded and generally ignored.  
"Bosco's not around," Crewman Roscoe said, lying back in a hammock suspended between two conduits, "He's in my quarters." Bosco was Roscoe's pet monkey.  
"I was talkin' to you, dude," Gibson chuckled, "Hey, other monkey," he called to the room's third occupant.  
"Yo, dude," Crewman Shwaluk answered, tinkering with a bank of equipment on his small workbench, "Done serving the Ice Queen for today?"  
"Yeah," Gibson sighed, sitting on an old crate and fishing a bottle of beer out of the beat-up old fridge they'd installed in the corner, "Another day of listening to her inane psycho-babble!"  
"I thought Dr. Wowryk was the Ice Queen?" Roscoe asked. Roscoe had grown up on Alpha Centauri 3, but the only sign that wasn't human was the extra joint in his little finger.  
"No, dude," Gibson admonished, "Yvonnokoff, or 'Vonna', whatever, she's the Ice Queen. Wowryk's the Queen Bitch of the Universe!"  
"Oh, right, how do I keep getting that one mixed up?"  
"I'VE DONE IT!" Shwaluk called out triumphantly, holding up a single leaf up from his workbench.  
"Dude!", Gibson jumped up, "is that-"  
"Yup! The perfect marijuana leaf!"  
The trio of troublemakers had staked out Storage Room 26-21 shortly after being assigned to Silverado. Roscoe was assigned to Ship Maintenance and although Maintenance had their main offices located on Deck 21, near Main Engineering, Roscoe was assigned to Deck 26. His job was to maintain the equipment on the lower deck, which included the antimatter and warp core ejection systems, power conduits to the lower phaser array and all 30 antimatter storage pods. All the antimatter and warp core systems were built with triple redundancy, computer monitoring and so on and so forth, meaning that any problem or error was immediately reported to Main Engineering, the bridge and the Main Computer. Roscoe was the fourth level of redundancy, and thus found himself with a large amount of spare time.  
Storage Room 26-21 or 'The Den' as the trio had come to refer to it, was the culmination of hours of work by Shwaluk, Roscoe and Gibson. They'd cleared the place out during Silverado's initial refit and proceeded to scavenge furnishing; chairs, a nice table, even some lamps and a big 43-inch viewscreen. The Den had also been home to Shwaluk's precious marijuana farm. Most civilized species had (finally) turned away from the use of harmful intoxicants like alcohol, tobacco and marijuana, preferring the safe and easily dismissed side effects of synthehol or a nice holodeck adventure. Shwaluk was not one of those people, an attitude shared by Gibson and Roscoe. The three had carefully constructed their own little illegal grow operation and guarded their secret jealously from everybody else. Even if an errant crewmember wandered down to Deck 26 and even if that same person were to wander into The Den, they probably wouldn't recognize the plants for what they were.  
Fortunately, The Den was located just aft of Silverado's lower phaser array which made it easy for the group to tap into the power conduits for their little nest. Unfortunately, the lower phaser array had taken a direct hit during the conflict with the Matrians, and The Den had been obliterated.  
Once repairs to the ship were complete, Roscoe, Gibson and Shwaluk set to recreating their secret clubhouse. Supplies had been tight though. They'd only managed to get a table, a couple of hammocks, an old crate and a small viewscreen. Shwaluk had also been unable to obtain proper seeds for his favorite crop, and had resorted to stealing genetic manipulation equipment from the Biology lab to try to create his own version. Gibson had tried replicating the forbidden leaves, but he didn't know how to trick the replicators into producing an illegal substance. They had used up the last of their old supply the previous night and desperation was starting to kick in.  
"It looks kinda blue to me," Gibson stated, looking over Shwaluk's shoulder, "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"  
"Sure," Shwaluk assured him, "I watched The Frigid Bitch turn barley into wheat in the Bio-lab just last week."  
"They've got a LOT of spare time on their hands," Gibson muttered.  
"Who's The Frigid Bitch again?" Roscoe wondered.  
"Lieutenant Fifebee," Shwaluk answered.  
"Oh, yeah."  
"The odds of getting the correct DNA sequences are like 1 in several billion," Shwaluk said, "Still, I have a good feeling about this one."

Stafford fought the urge to grin smugly at Wowryk as she joined the three other officers in Unbalanced Equations. Sure, Jeffery hadn't actually decided to break up with her yet, but the thought of having her deprived of her 'manservant' was one that made him very happy.  
"What a boring day," she sighed, tossing her hair as she sat back, "Simon, get me a drink please."  
"Yes'm!" Jeffery said eagerly, jumping out of his seat. Stafford clapped one hand on his shoulder and forced him back down.  
"Get it yourself!" Stafford said calmly.  
"No, really, it's fine, I want to get it!" Jeffery insisted, twisting free of Stafford and running for the bar.  
"Do not get your hopes up," Fifebee advised Stafford gravely.  
"What's this?" Wowryk asked, not really sounding interested.  
Stafford was saved by a sharp call on the comm.  
"Sickbay to Dr. Wowryk! Medical emergency!"  
"Drat," Wowryk tapped her comm-badge, "What is it? Can't you handle it?"  
"No!" the night-shift physician called back, "I've never seen anything like this! These three guys inhaled some kind of weird bio-toxin! They've swollen up like a bunch of-"  
"On my way!" Wowryk snapped, storming away from the table without so much as a goodbye.  
"I wonder what that's all about," Fifebee wondered.

Captain's Log, Stardate 57010.03  
"Wow…that Stardate is almost half zeros! Anyway, we've arrived at Mouvit 4. Hopefully we'll find out more about this propulsion thing they want us to test out. Preferably BEFORE they install it on my ship!"  
"In other news, three of my crewmen started swelling up the other day and were within minutes of exploding before Dr. Wowryk came up with an anti-toxin. They somehow managed to ingest Rigellian Sucker-Slug venom. Since we've scanned the ship carefully and detected no sign of the disgusting slugs, I'm accepting their explanation that it was an accident from horsing around in the Bio-lab. How they managed to get from the Bio-lab to Deck 26 in their condition is somewhat beyond me, but hey, nobody's perfect."

"You can't have half a zero," Commander Noonan calmly informed Stafford as he finished recording his log.  
"I'm still not talking to you!" Stafford muttered.  
"You did yesterday when you gave me the crew reports," Noonan pointed out.  
"That doesn't count!" Stafford snapped, "It was work-related!"  
Yanick leaned over from her conn console to whisper at Jall.  
"What are they bickering about now?"  
"The Captain's still upset over the whole 'Vonna Show' thing," Jall whispered back.  
"That was months ago!" Yanick whispered, "They've been getting along OK. What's up?"  
"One of last night's callers was complaining that his Captain is a whiney little weasel," Jall whispered.  
"So?" Trish asked.  
"Hold on," Jall tapped at his console.  
"-can't do anything right!" complained a familiar voice, "He's undisciplined, lazy, inexperienced and can't get laid to save his life!"  
"Jall," Stafford growled, clenching his teeth.  
"I see," came the voice of Dr. Vonna, "Perhaps you should request a transfer to another ship?"  
"But I like it on Silverado!" complained the voice.  
The audio clip repeated.  
"SHUT THAT OFF!" Stafford growled, storming over to Jall's console to hit the 'stop' button, "God, you are such a little prick!"  
"We're being hailed by the research lab," Jall said quickly.  
Glaring for another minute, Stafford straightened his uniform and turned to the main screen.  
As Stafford and the station administrator spoke, Yanick leaned back over to whisper to Jall.  
"So what? It was just a call to Eva's show!"  
"The guy was from Silverado!" Jall whispered.  
"So?"  
"God, you ARE a blond," Jall muttered, "Just think about it, OK?"

"Captain, a word please?"  
Stafford spun around, looking for the source of the voice. He'd just jumped in the turbolift to greet Dr. Cadela in the transporter room, but he could have sworn the turbolift was empty.  
"You're not going to see me," sighed the voice.  
"Huh? Oh! Sylvia! Hi!" Stafford exclaimed.  
"Having a slow day, are we?"  
"Hardly," Stafford grumbled, "What can I do for ya?"  
"I would like to sit in on the briefing with Dr. Cadela," Sylvia said simply.  
"Um, I'm sorry Sylvia," Stafford apologized, "But Dr. Cadela said 'senior officers only'. I don't think that includes the ship's computer."  
"She probably doesn't know about me!" Sylvia objected, "Hardly anybody does, you know!"  
"That's because Starfleet wants to keep things quiet!" Stafford explained for what felt like the 100th time, "If people knew that a fully sentient computer existed, they-"  
"That's not the point!" Sylvia interrupted, "If they're going to test some new technology on this ship – ON ME – I think I have a right to know what's going on, and a right to give my input!"  
Stafford was about to object, but the words died unspoken on his lips. She DID have a point, after all.  
"I'll talk to Cadela," he promised.

The senior staff had gathered in the conference lounge to meet Dr. Cadela and her assistant, Spork. Cadela was a short, smiling Asian woman. She had cheerfully shaken the hands of the entire staff before setting into one of the chairs. Her never-ending grins where a source of no small amount of annoyance (and suspicion) on the part of the Silverado crew. It hadn't even wavered when Stafford explained that the ship's computer would be taking part in the briefing.  
Spork was obviously half-Vulcan, but it was clear from the scared look on his face that he didn't follow any Vulcan teachings. This was reinforced by the way he chuckled nervously at Stafford's cheesy jokes.  
"We've tested this new system on probes, shuttles and even a Danube-class runabout," Dr. Cadela said happily, "and each time it's been a complete success! Naturally, Starfleet Command is very interested in our research, which is why you are all here today!"  
Stafford and Jeffery exchanged glances. They couldn't be that interested if Silverado was the only ship they could send for the test.  
"So what does thing do, already?" Jeffery asked.  
"I'm so glad you asked!" Cadela gushed, "Spork?" she gestured at her assistant.  
Grunting, Spork heaved a small crate onto the table. Everybody crowded around as he undid the fastenings. Sylvia watched from a display screen, where her computer-generated visage was displayed, and through the ship's internal sensors.  
What Spork revealed was a metal sphere about the size of a beach ball with several black panels set into its surface. Small status lights blinked on a tiny control console mounted on the top.  
"What the hell is that thing?" Jall demanded.  
"I present to you," Cadela gushed, "With the latest advance in faster-than-light travel! The Probability Drive!"  
Everybody looked at the sphere, at each other, back to the sphere, then at Cadela.  
"The WHAT?"

"Allow me to explain," Cadela said, walking over to the display screen, "Pardon me," she said, tapping at the controls. Sylvia's visage vanished from the screen with a yelp of protest as complex equations appeared on the display. Sylvia re-appeared on the screen at the opposite end of the room.  
"Mr. Jeffery," Cadela said, gesturing to Jeffery, "what are the odds of an Ambassador-class ship maintaining Warp 6 for 14 days?"  
"Uhh," Jeffery thought for a moment, "It's almost certain. Even for Silverado!"  
"She's a bit of an old girl," Stafford whispered, winking in Sylvia's direction.  
"I heard that!"  
"'Almost certain'," Cadela repeated, "Could explain that?"  
"Um," Jeffery looked around nervously at all the expectant faces looking up at him, "Well, at that speed, the odds of a core breach, injector failure, structural collapse or anything that could damage the ship are all really, really low. We could hold Warp 6 for weeks non stop, years if we do proper engine maintenance."  
"Thank you," Cadela scribbled 'Warp 6 – 2 weeks – 99.999999%" on a flip chart that Spork conveniently provided, "Now, what about Warp 9 for 14 days?"  
"Not gonna happen," Jeffery said firmly.  
"Why not?"  
"Well, the core would overload, or the plasma injectors would overheat, or the nacelles would burn out, or the structural integrity fields would fail, or the warp coils would start to degrade, disrupting our warp field-"  
"Thank you," Cadela cut him off, writing 'Warp 9 – 2 weeks – 1%', "Now, Warp 9.999."  
"For about 2 seconds," Jeffery scoffed, "Then we explode!"  
'9.999 – 2 weeks – 0%' was added to the board.  
"Is there a point to this elementary school lesson?" Jall wanted to know.  
"I am illustrating a point, sir," Cadela purred, "Mr. Jeffery, why can't you travel at Warp 9.999? One reason, please."  
Jeffery sighed.  
"One reason. Fine. To explain it at the level yer running at – grade 4 – the faster we travel, the faster the plasma injectors fire. At that speed, they couldn't possibly stay in sequence, the warp field would be disrupted and the ship would be torn apart."  
"Precisely. Thank you."  
"Something I'd rather not have happen!" Sylvia snapped.  
"Of course not," Cadela soother the computer, "Mr. Jeffery, what would you say the chances are of the plasma injectors staying in sequence?"  
"15% for the first 4.5 seconds," Sylvia cut in, "and 5% less for every 2 seconds after that."  
"What does this have to do with this oversized gumball?" Stafford asked.  
"The Probability Drive generates a field that changes the laws of probability on the ship, allowing systems to perform tasks that would normally be impossible!" She erased the numbers on the board, replacing each with a large '100%'.  
"But-but-" Jeffery stammered, "It isna possible for this ship to hit 9.999!"  
"Of course it is," Cadela scoffed, "Anything is possible. Just very unlikely. But the Probability drive alters what is and is not likely to happen, so the improbable becomes the probable!"  
"So, we could use this gadget to get the Captain laid?" Jall chucked.  
"Shut up about that already!" Stafford snapped.  
"Fascinating," Fifebee commented, "I don't believe this type of speed enhancement has ever been attempted before. I would very much like to study the research done on this."  
"Does this situation make anybody else nervous?" Noonan asked calmly.  
"YES!"

"What are you doing?" Sylvia asked, fighting to keep her voice calm as Jeffery and Cadela tinkered with the Probability Drive in Main Engineering.  
"Connecting the output generators of the PD to yer shield grid," Jeffery answered.  
"Why?"  
"Because we need the probability field to encompass the entire ship," Cadela cut in, "Otherwise the ship's superstructure would most likely be ripped apart like a tissue in a hurricane."  
"I'm right here, you know," Sylvia seethed, "You don't have to talk about me like I'm not in the same room!"  
"She means," Jeffery said soothingly, "That we need the field to fully encompass YE so that YER not ripped apart like a tissue in a hurricane."  
"Oh, that makes me feel SO much better!"  
Despite a rocky start, Jeffery had grown accustomed to Sylvia's constant presence. He had to admit that she really was a big help, even if her method of helping left something to be desired. Coming to work had become a lot like visiting his parents' house….nag, nag, nag! He still wasn't sure whether or not he trusted her, but he hadn't put up any fuss when Stafford decided to keep her.  
The various Ensign Nakeths scurried about their business, carefully avoiding the upper level of engineering where the previously mentioned argument was taking place. Cadela had mounted the surprisingly heavy Probability Drive sphere on a control console and was in the process of running cables to various Silverado systems. A process that was making Sylvia more than a bit edgy.  
CLICK  
"OK," Cadela said happily, "Your computer should be able to interface with the drive."  
Jeffery didn't move.  
"What are you waiting for," Cadela demanded, smile waveringly slightly, "Go check!"  
Sylvia cleared her throat.  
"For crying out loud," Cadela muttered, "Sylvia, you should be able to interface with the drive now."  
"Was that so hard? And yes, I can interface with it."  
"Bring it online."  
Silence.  
Cadela glared at Jeffery, who just silently mouthed 'Please' back to the increasingly annoyed scientist.  
"Bring the drive online, PLEASE!"  
"Probability core is active," Sylvia replied, "And you're welcome."

"SIF generators?"  
"Online," Jall replied from his Ops panel.  
"Navigational Deflector Sensor Sequencers?"  
"Yup,"  
"Plasma Injector Intercoolers?"  
"YES! For crying out loud, lady, this isn't the first time we've gone to warp!"  
Cadela huffed from where she sat at the port Auxiliary console.  
"I am just trying to be thorough!"  
"Jall," Stafford said wearily, "Stop hassling the visiting scientist."  
"Why?" Jall asked, "Can she hurt me?"  
"I doubt it. But it's annoying," Stafford stretched, then climbed out of his chair, "All right, let's get this show on the road. Yanick, set course for the far end of Federation space and engage at Warp 6."  
Nothing happened.  
"Trish?" Stafford asked.  
"Oh, oops," Yanick gave a nervous giggle, "Forgot to turn to warp core back on."  
"Captain," Cadela said quietly, "Maybe we should-"  
She was cut off as Silverado spun around with a lurch and jumped into warp.  
"Warp 6," Yanick reported.  
"Everything's up and running normally," Jall reported. Evidently he was concerned enough with the drive test to actually do his job without any threats or cajoling.  
"Take us to Warp 9," Cadela ordered, "Then increase from there. I'll activate the drive at 9.2"  
"Do what she says," Stafford ordered, biting his lip.  
"All hands," Noonan announced into the comm system as the sound of straining systems became audible, "Brace yourselves. We're not sure what's going to happen, but brace yourselves anyway."  
"Warp 9," Yanick called out of the groaning of the ship, "9.1. 9.2"  
T'Parief gripped his console as a slight lurch sent him off balance. Jall giggled slightly, enjoying the full massage he was getting from the vibrations traveling through the ship's superstructure and transmitted through the deck to his chair.  
"Activating Probability Drive," Cadela announced.  
Everybody held their breaths.  
Slowly, the vibrations stopped. The soft groans made by stressed metal died out.  
"9.4," Yanick said softly.  
"Hold steady here," Stafford ordered, "Jeffery, what's up?"  
"Everything's fine," Jeffery reported from engineering, "Too fine,"  
"Huh?"  
"Ah'm reading absolutely 0 variance in the warp field," Jeffery reported.  
"Isn't that good?" Stafford asked.  
Fifebee cut in.  
"Normally, even at low speeds there is some variance the warp field. We compensate with inertial dampeners and the structural integrity field. A ship with a 0 variance warp field would theoretically have no need of either at warp speeds, as the warp field would effect all mass on the ship equally."  
Stafford's eyes had glazed over.  
"Think of it like this," Noonan started, then paused, "Actually, I have no analogy for warp travel."  
"And that's not all!" Jeffery piped up, "Core coolant systems are running perfectly and the dilithium crystals are showing no sign of stress. Hell, we could keep this up all day!"  
Stafford looked over to Cadela.  
"Told you so," she said, big smile back on her face.  
"Yanick," Stafford ordered, "Take us to Warp 9.9"  
"Aye, sir!"  
No change.  
"Warp 9.99"  
"Warp 9.999"  
"Warp 9.9999"  
"We could be here for a while at this rate," Jall muttered.  
"It's conceivable we could even hit Warp 10," Fifebee said, awestruck."  
"All in good time," Cadela smiled.  
"This is amazing!" Noonan said happily, showing an unusual amount of enthusiasm, "At this speed, we could cross the entire Federation in days instead of months!"  
"Take us down to Warp 9," Stafford ordered, "Dr. Cadela, shut down the drive. That's enough of a test for today."  
"Answering Warp 9," Yanick said with a grin.  
Silence.  
"Doctor?" Noonan inquired.  
"Um," Cadela tapped frantically at her panel, "It's stuck!"

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Roscoe asked as Shwaluk powered up his genetic resequencer, "You nearly killed us the last time! You yourself said the chances of getting the right combo were in the billions!"  
"Right," Shwaluk grinned, "But did you get the memo on today's experiment?"  
"No,"  
"Well, then just trust me!"  
Shwaluk hit the switch, activating the resequencer and sucking large amounts of energy from the ship's power grid.

"I'm reading an instability in the Probability core!" Fifebee cried.  
"I see it!" Cadela snapped, "There's some kind of power drain! It's knocking the core out of alignment!"  
"What does that mean?" Stafford snapped.  
"We're f**ked!" Sylvia cried out.  
And everything went black.

T'Parief awoke to find a cold, hard surface pressed against his cheek. Fighting back a grunt of pain, he forced his eyes open, revealing an endless vista of stars. He was in space!  
Giving a roar of panic, T'Parief flailed his arms and legs, fighting back from the terrifying few. After a moment, he realized that he wasn't floating in space after all, he'd just fallen into the small transparent dome in the bridge ceiling, right above the Captain's chair.  
Embarrassed, he looked around to see if anybody had noticed. Fifebee was offline, but everybody else was regaining consciousness, thanks in part to the loud noises he'd been making. Stafford and Yanick Noonan were sprawled across the bridge ceiling, while Jall and Cadela had become entangled in their panels and were dangling limply from the floor.  
Huh?  
As his head cleared, T'Parief realized that he was sitting on the bridge ceiling, looking up at Jall as the Ops officer swung gently above him, his legs caught beneath his console.  
"Jall! Wake up!" T'Parief snapped. This had the desired effect of rousing the unconscious irritant, who immediately started squirming.  
"Huh? Wazza? I dun wanna getup!"  
"Rise and shine, jerk!" T'Parief snapped, batting at Jall's head like a kitten batting at string. This had the undesired effect of freeing Jall from his console. The half-Trill crashed down on T'Parief, sending both sprawling across the ceiling.  
"What's going on?" Stafford groaned.  
"The children are playing too loudly," Noonan reply softly, rubbing at the back of his head, his fingers coming away sticky with blood. He must have impacted something hard to be knocked out with the others, but the wound had already healed.  
"Cadela?" Stafford asked, looking around, finally locating the woman as she dangled limply from the Auxillary console. Noonan walked over, feeling one hanging arm for a pulse.  
"She's dead," he declared sadly.  
"Why am I on the ceiling," Yanick asked, a cranky look on her face, "Why are you all on the ceiling too?"  
"Excellent question!" Stafford said, slightly sarcastic, "Sylvia, why is the roof the floor?"  
No response.  
"I hope she's OK," Noonan said softly, "Can anybody reach their panels?"  
"Hello!" Yanick snapped, "I can't even reach the top shelf in my closet!"  
Everybody looked to Yanick in surpise.  
"She's a bit grumpy when she first wakes up," T'Parief said in way of explanation.  
Stafford resisted the temptation to ask just how T'Parief knew that. The very tall officer was reaching up to the tactical console, tapping at the controls.  
"I am having troubles reading the display upside-down," he stated, "but everything seems to be functioning normally."  
"Like hell!" Jall groused.  
"We need Fifebee back online," Noonan stated.  
"Stafford to Jeffery," Stafford tapped at his comm-badge.  
No answer.  
"I guess we go looking," Stafford shrugged.  
"Can't we reverse the gravity, first?"  
"Only if you know how to read upside down!"  
"Maybe somebody down in Engineering will fix things."

Jeffery sat on the metal grill that formed the ceiling of the lower level of Main Engineering. Through the grill he could see the upper level, where Frit Naketh was bouncing up and down like a hyperactive kitten, trying to scale the support beams in order to reach the control panel for the environmental sub-systems. The 3-and-a-half foot tall engineer had about as much hope in reaching the panel as Jeffery had in suddenly losing his accent. A soft whimper drew his attention to Frek Naketh, who had his arms and legs wrapped around the warp core railing as he looked down (up?) along the warp core shaft, the matter injector assembly barely visible several decks away. If he lost his grip, he'd be in for a hell of a drop.  
"Maybe somebody up on the bridge will fix things," Frat Naketh commented to Jeffery as Frit lost her grip on the support bream, tumbling to the ceiling.

"We should have a plan," Noonan said calmly, "We can't just start wandering at random through the ship."  
"Right, right," Stafford muttered, half to himself, "OK then. T'Parief, you and Yanick get down to Engineering and see if you can help out. Jall, head to Computer Core Control and see what's wrong with Sylvia. Noonan, um, go with Jall."  
"I would be better off assisting you," Noonan said, softly but firmly.  
Stafford looked like he wanted to argue, but with his senior staff around now wasn't the time.  
"Fine, let's go."

"Where are we going?" Noonan asked as he followed Stafford through a jefferies tube. T'Parief had obviously been mistaken when he said everything was up and running, as the turbolifts definitely down. Stafford really couldn't blame him; reading upside down wasn't in the job description.  
"Auxiliary Control," Stafford replied, "It's on a regular deck; no high ceilings like on the bridge. We should be able to get a better idea of what's going on."  
"I see," Noonan said thoughtfully, "A good plan."  
They climbed in silence for several minutes.  
"Captain," Noonan said, "I'm a bit concerned with the turn our relationship has taken lately. We don't seem to be meshing as well as we did before."  
"Meshing?" Stafford snorted, "We didn't mesh! I give the orders, you do the paperwork, and then you went behind my back with nasty little pet projects!"  
"I like to think that our working relationship had been about as efficient as any Captain and First Officer," Noonan replied with a frown, "We share the workload well, we have the respect of our crew. Well, most of them. Many of them," he amended.  
"Sounds great," Stafford replied, stopping at the access hatch on Deck 12, "so what's your problem/"  
Noonan thought carefully, trying to find the most diplomatic way to phrase his complaint.  
"Our personal interaction has been poor lately."  
"Huh?"  
Noonan felt his patience slipping as he and Stafford stepped into the corridor, stepping carefully to avoid the lighting fixtures.  
"You're being an ass!" he finally said, exasperated, "I've taken every action I can to keep things running smoothly on this ship! Our paperwork is impeccable, our crew is more than happy to handle their own personnel disputes and from an administrative perspective, we're in great shape! All of which, I might point out, is my responsibility! And until recently, I felt that you appreciated my services!"  
"You want to know what the problem is? Stafford snapped back, "I DON'T TRUST YOU! I don't know what it is, but ever since you started 'The Vonna Show' without telling me, I've noticed just how weird you are! Your skin creams, and special sunglasses, you never eat, you barely sleep and don't think you can hide those teeth so easily! Yeah, I can see those f**king fangs just fine! Not to mention the way you just seem to reach into my mind and know exactly what I need before I say a word! And just why is it that anytime I get really suspicious, I suddenly found myself not caring? I don't know what little spell you had me under, but it's over! I know perfectly well that something's weird! There, are you happy?"  
Noonan was quiet for a moment.  
"The steps I took were necessary" he admitted, "My…race…has dealt with more than our share of persecution. Anything I did was done purely in the interest of self-preservation."  
"And how long do you think it's going to work?" Stafford asked, "I'm already onto you. How long until everybody else figures it out?"  
"They won't" Noonan stated, "I made a mistake with you that I don't plan to repeat."  
"And what's to stop me from telling everybody?'  
"Now isn't the time to talk about that," Noonan said, "But I want to assure you that I'm here as First Officer of this ship, and that to better do more job I would appreciate a more cooperative attitude from you, Captain!"  
"I'm cooperating," Stafford said bitterly, "I'm just not very happy about it right now!"  
"You do realize that 'The Vonna Show' is picking up a huge fan base. To each of those beings, the name Silverado is no longer associated with inexperience or Operation Salvage. Her fans see us as the home of their favorite holovision star. That's a step up!"  
"Yeah," Stafford sighed, "it's so good to know that we're moving up in the world. OK. Fine. I admit it, it was a great idea. You're a great First Officer. Horry for you! What do you want, a f**king medal?"  
"No. Just respect."  
"You lost that!" Stafford said, "And you'll have to earn it back.  
Noonan glared, fighting down a very real surge of anger. This mortal was daring to lecture HIM about respect? Taking a deep breath, Noonan reminded himself that Stafford was still young, and therefore arrogant, impatient, impetuous….  
As Noonan ran through a list of Stafford's shortcomings in his head, the pair arrived at the doors to Auxiliary Control. The officers within where staring up at their consoles. Every now and then, somebody would try to reach one, unsuccessfully.  
"Captain!" Lieutenant Ovens called out, "We tried to call the bridge, but the comm system must be down!"  
"That about covers it. What's your status?"  
"We don't know," Ovens shrugged, "We're kinda having some problems here."  
"Right," Stafford muttered.  
"Who's the lightest person here?" Noonan asked.  
Ovens and the two ensigns in the room looked at each other, finally pointing to Ensign Bith, a petite blond security officer.  
"Excellent," Noonan smiled.

As Stafford and Noonan tinkered in Auxiliary Control, Jall was reaching the Computer Core Control room on Deck 11. Entering it, he found the place to be a complete disaster.  
Somehow, some of the catches holding the various control components in place had been released, allowing dozens of isolinear chips to fall out of their slots, landing in a mound on the ceiling. On the opposite wall, 8 of the 15 control gel-packs had likewise been detached. Presumably, this was the cause of the systems failures, although Jall had never heard of a systems and computer failure this severe where the lights actually stayed on.  
Looking at the pile, Jall realized the chances of him placing each chip in the correct location were close to zero. A rumble from his stomach reminded him that without replicators, he was going to miss his dinner date with that very cute Ensign from Stellar Cartography.  
Grabbing a chip, Jall started working.

Yanick and T'Parief climbed out of the Jefferies tube on Deck 21. T'Parief stopped to catch his breath, marveling at Yanick's stamina.  
"And so I said to the Romulan I said: 'No, cows don't talk, but they sure taste good anyway'!"  
Yanick chuckled loudly as T'Parief closed his eyes, half his mind wondering how that could possibly be funny, the other half wondering how the hell Yanick could climb up 21 decks, talking non-stop the whole time, without being tired.  
"Lezgo," T'Parief gasped, taking a step down the upside-down corridor.  
CRUNCH!  
BZZZTTT!  
"YEOOWWWWW!" T'Parief jumped up with his left foot, fighting to free the right one from the lighting panel it had stepped through.  
"Watch your step, honey," Yanick said with a grin, watching as the hulking security officer shook off the last shards of glass.  
"I'm OK," he said, half to himself.  
Walking more carefully, the two made their way to engineering.  
"Watch your step!" Jeffery called out as the door opened, just before T'Parief could fall down the drop between the corridor ceiling and the higher ceiling of the engineering space.  
"What is your status here?" T'Parief asked. Jeffery was couched on the lower level ceiling, tapping on his tricorder.  
"We can't reach the panels to check," Jeffery replied, "And the computer seems to be offline. Ah call tell you though that the Probability Core is still running, and Ah have no idea how to shut it down!"  
"Still running? Is that good?"  
"Ah doubt it! Near as Ah can tell with this," he gestured at his tricorder, "Something's messing with the gravity generators-"  
"DUH!" Yanick cried out.  
"Do ye mind? Anyway, somehow the polarity of the graviton generators has been reversed, which is why we're all stuck to the ceiling."  
"Why?"  
"Well, Ah can't be sure without Fifebee," Jeffery said, "but I think something knocked the Probability core off its axis! Instead of effecting the propulsion systems, it's f**king up everything! And it's getting worse!"  
"Worse?" T'Parief asked.  
"Aye," Jeffery nodded frantically, "the further off its axis this thing goes, the more the laws of probability are going to be skewed! Ah have no idea what kind of weird things might happen if this goes on!"

"How did I let you talk me into this?" Lieutenant Ovens groaned as he crouched on all fours. Beside him was Crewman Micks, also in the same position. Atop their backs the two men had padding ripped off the walls, on which stood Noonan and Stafford. Each had a firm grip on Ensign Bith and were holding her firmly into a seat at the Operations console.  
"Pain, rising," Crewman Micks gasped, "Vertebrae…cracking…."  
"Just try to reverse to polarity of the gravity field, Ensign," Noonan encouraged.  
BEEP!  
"AHHH!"

All over the ship, cries of shock and pain rang out as everybody was once again forcefully moved from one surface to another. Instead of striking the floor though, everybody (and any objects not secured) flew towards the starboard side of the ship, crashing into walls, panels and windows.  
"I don't see how this is possible!" Noonan gasped, hanging from one hand by Bith's chair, "Gravity should only go up or down, not sideways!"  
"Try again," Stafford groaned, trying to pull his head out of the large dent it had left in the Sciences console. Ensign Bith clung desperately to the Ops console, legs wrapped around the support strut as she tapped at the controls.  
This time, everybody crashed hard to the floor.

Jall took a moment to thank the powers that be that he had thought to re-engage the locks holding the isolinear chips into their computer core slots BEFORE he started reinserting them, otherwise the two sudden gravity shifts would have left him back at square one. He frowned, unable to remember why he suddenly cared about doing his job properly. With a shrug, he resumed plugging in chips and gel-packs.

"I am Jane 5-B, sentient hologram," Fifebee declared as she materialized in the middle of Main Engineering. With the return of normal gravity, Jeffery had been able to quickly locate the problem with her program; a major outage in one of the computer core processing centers. Jeffery had frowned. Such an outage was next to impossible. Glancing at the humming Probability Core, he had realized that next to impossible suddenly didn't matter. He was able to restore Fifebee's program by engaging backup systems, a process that should have happened automatically.  
Fifebee listened carefully as Jeffery explained his theory with the Probability Core.  
"Do ye know how to shut it off?" he asked finally.  
Fifebee scanned her database.  
"Sylvia had direct control over the core," she said finally, "Without Sylvia to shut it down, we're in trouble."

"Dude, this is SOO COOL!" Crewman Gibson cried out happily, clouds of smoke billowing out his open mouth, "I thought this was, like, totally impossible!"  
"It is!" Crewman Shwaluk sighed happily "Just shut up and smoke it!"  
Crewman Roscoe, having already inhaled large volumes of the acrid smoke, just sat on the floor, eyes staring glassily at his two companions.  
"I'm gonna go get my heq'Dul!" Gibson cried out, rushing from the door, eager to retrieve his heq'Dul (Klingon bong) from his quarters. As he stood, his pants promptly dropped down to his ankles.  
"What the f**k?" he cried out, tripping and crashing to the ground.  
"Nice butt," Shwaluk chuckled.  
"Huh-huh…fag!" Roscoe forced out.  
Re-adjusting his pants, Gibson flipped Roscoe the finger, turned, and promptly fell on his face as his pants dropped back down to the floor.

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" Ensign Burke asked as his lab partner tinkered with one of Jeffery's special energy cells, identical to the cells now used to power Silverado's pulse phaser cannon.  
"Of course I'm sure! If we can adapt this to work with the sensor array, we could boost sensor resolution by 200%!"  
"But, um, if you, like, keep adjusting that field, you might destabilize the contained energy," Burke nervously pointed out.  
"Yeah, but the odds of that are one in a mil-"  
BANG!  
Burke picked himself up off the floor, black scoring covering his face, most of his hair burnt away.

"All right, everybody please place your slekard pods in your containment fields, and get your lasers ready," Rengs Meris, Silverado's (relatively) new high school teacher instructed her class. She only had 4 students in her Grade 12 science class; Silverado was a ship that tended to attract younger officers, not middle-aged officers with near-adult offspring.  
"OK, these are Risan slekard pods," she explained, "they're produced by an animal somewhat like a terran spider. Now, you can tell whether the pod was produced by a male or female by colours produced when a laser passes through it. Anybody know what the odds are of getting a male product?"  
One hand shot up.  
"One in a thousand," an acne-pocked boy said proudly, "the females usually eat the males before they can produce any pods."  
"Right," Meris smiled, "So activate your lasers."  
All the pods turned green.  
"So, uh, we got all girl pods?" asked a blond haired girl.  
"No," Meris said slowly," green indicates a male pod. But that's impossible…"

"We're pregnant!" Beth Parker and her husband, K'keketh sang out as they danced around in a circle, medical tricorder tossed unceremoniously in the corner.  
The doctors had told them it wasn't likely. Never mind the difficulties inherent to interbreeding between humans and Talarians, K'keketh had abnormally poor sperm motility, making the odds of them being able to conceive through, um, natural processes impossibly small.  
"Oh, it's a miracle!" Beth sighed happily, falling into K'keketh's arms.

"2 isoliner chips on the floor, 2 isolinear chips," Jall sang in a very bored voice, "pick one up, plug it into the slot, 1 isolinear chip on the floor!"  
Jall had finished repairs to the Computer Core Control room. Sure he was probably going to have to go through every single chip again, odds are one was out of whack somewhere. But it was a start.  
He tapped the controls and was surprise to see the core come back online immediately.  
"Oh, my aching head!" Sylvia groaned from speakers throughout the ship.  
"Oh! I am GOOD!" Jall sang out, performing a modest but fun victory dance before heading towards the bridge.

"Sylvia! Yer back!" Jeffery cried out.  
"Yes, I'm back, and I'm NOT HAPPY!" Sylvia cried out, "I TOLD you not to let that-that BITCH mess around with my systems, now look what's happened! My plasma injectors are misaligned, two of my SIF generators have shorted out-"  
"Can ye shut down the probability core?" Jeffery demanded, cutting Sylvia off.  
Silence.  
"It's not responding to my shutdown commands!" Sylvia replied, a hint of panic in her voice.  
"OK, OK," Jeffery took a deep breath, then turned to Fifebee, "What do we do?"  
"Don't look at me!" Fifebee huffed, "You're the ranking officer, Lieutenant Commander!"  
"Actually," T'Parief rumbled, "I have seniority."  
"Oh," Fifebee thought for a moment, "You're right!"  
"Fifebee was wrong?" Yanick asked in a small voice, "Ohhhh…..that's not good."  
"Don't rub it in or anything," Fifebee muttered, "It's that damned gadget doing it!"  
"Jeffery, continue repairs," T'Parief ordered, "now that gravity has been restored, the rest of us shall return to the bridge and see what can be done. Sylvia?"  
"Yes, dear?"  
"Keep trying to shut down the Probability Core."

T'Parief, Yanick and Fifebee poured out of the fore ward turbolift at the same time Stafford and Noonan were emerging from the aft turbolift. Jall was already seated at his station.  
"You realize," Jall said, "That you left the bridge unmanned during a time of crisis. That's a violation of General Order-"  
"Shut up!" Stafford and T'Parief called out, "It was f**king upside down!" Stafford added.  
Yanick pointed at the Aux console where Dr. Cadela's body lay slumped.  
"Isn't anybody going to move her?" she asked, "She's gonna start to smell."  
"Oh, right. Stafford to Maintenance, cleanup on the bridge!"  
"Uh yeah," replied Maintenance, "Is this a wet-vac or dry-vac clean-up? Not that it matters, cuz for some reason all our vacs are blowing instead of sucking!"  
"Uh, dead body," Stafford replied.  
"Sorry, that's a Sickbay thing. Let me transfer you-"  
"Never mind!" Stafford cut the channel.  
"Blowing instead of sucking, huh?" Jall asked, an evil gleam in his eye.  
"I motion we ignore that," Noonan stated flatly.  
"SECONDED!"

"What ship is it again?"  
"U.S.S. Silverado, boss."  
"Should I know of this ship?"  
"It's part of one of Dillon's pet projects."  
"Anything worth stealing?"  
"Doubt it. Let me see…." Heks accessed his illegal tap into the Starfleet database, "They're testing a new drive system in the Mouvit system."  
"That's 400 light-years away! What are they doing here?"  
"I dunno, but I'm getting some funny readings from their engineering section."  
Krabez sat back on his throne, considering carefully. He was a frightening image, a fully fledge Orion pirate. Green skinned with shaggy black hair, he wore a suit of chain mail, held in place with heavy steel belts. His small raider was no match for even an Ambassador-class ship, but judging from the uncontrolled way the Federation ship was drifting, they weren't likely in much condition to mount a fight. If this new drive system was successful, it could give him a powerful advantage.  
"Listen carefully…" he instructed his subordinate.

"Captain," Fifebee called out, "sensors are still scrambled, but I think there's a ship approaching!"  
"On screen!" An image of the approaching ship appeared on the viewscreen.  
"Is it me," Noonan commented, "or is the ship pink?"  
"So are the stars!" Yanick exclaimed.  
"The sensors aren't working properly," Fifebee patiently explained, "For some reason, they're only picking up certain wavelengths."  
"Oh gee," Stafford said dryly, "I wonder what could be causing that!"  
"We still can't get the core offline," Jall reported.  
"Damn."  
"They're hailing us!"  
"On screen."  
The visage on the screen had Stafford quickly wishing for the days when his enemies were beautiful women like the Senousians, Matrians and Queen Wowryk. Aside from being male, the Orion was UGLY!"  
"Ewww!" Yanick said softly.  
"Starship Silverado," the ugly Orion stated imperiously, "I am Krabez. You appear to be in distress. May we offer our assistance?"  
"I'm Captain Chris Stafford of the Federation Starship Silverado," Stafford said, rising from his chair, "We're fine. Thank you."  
The Orion chuckled.  
"You're sure there isn't something we can…take care of…for you?  
"He knows about the drive," Noonan whispered, "he wants it."  
"Krabez," Stafford said, "thank you very much. But the best you could do would be to get far away from here!"

Krabez frowned. Obviously his attempt at subterfuge had fallen flat on its face. Fine. Time to be more direct.  
"Let me cut to the chase, then, Captain," he snarled, "You have something I want. Hand it over, or I'll blow up your ship!"

"HAH!" Stafford laughed at the Orion's threat, "I'd like to see you try! Shields up," he muttered quietly to T'Parief.  
"Fine," Krabez screamed, cutting the channel.  
"Evasive maneuvers!" Stafford called out, "Fifebee, now would be a good time to fix that core!"  
"Perhaps I could attempt to re-align it-" Fifebee started.  
"Whatever! Just do it!"  
The ship shuddered as the Orion disruptors struck the shields.  
"Return fire!"  
T'Parief lashed back with a phaser blast.  
And missed.  
Growling, he fired another shot.  
Missed again.  
"T'Parief?" Stafford called frantically as the ship shook again.  
"I CANNOT HIT THEM!" T'Parief roared, "THEY ARE DODGING EVERY SHOT I FIRE!"  
"Score another for Probability Drive," Jall laughed as he was tossed back in his chair, "Shields at 80%"  
"Fire torpedoes!"  
Two quantum torpedoes shot out from Silverado's launch tubes. Rather then lighting up as normal, the torpedoes remained dark until they hit they Orion ship's shields, breaking apart on impact.  
"Duds," Noonan reported.  
"DUDS? But the odds of a…oh F**K!" Stafford slammed his fists down on his armrest.

Jeffery fell against the bulkhead as the ship shook again, sparks flying from the panel beside him.  
"Ta hell with his!" he muttered. He climbed the ladder to the upper level of engineering, swinging wildly as the ship shook again.  
"That one took out one of our thruster assemblies," Frat reported.  
Jeffery stalked towards the center console, where the Probability Core blinked benignly.  
"STOP MESSING THINGS UP, DAMN YOU!" he cried, delivering a roundhouse kick to the unit before stumbling to the floor.

"Captain," Fifebee reported, "The Probability Core axis has shifted!"  
"T'Parief! Disable that ship!" Stafford cried.  
Unleashing the big gun, T'Parief fired a string of high power phaser bolts, digging deep into the Orion ship's shields.  
"Direct hit!" he cried out, "Their weapons are offline!"  
"Sylvia, try shutting down the core again!"  
"Probability Core has been successfully deactivated," Sylvia reported.

Captain's Log: Stardate 57011.4  
"After towing Krabez and his ship to a nearby Starbase where he can await trial, we've set course back for Mouvit 4 under conventional warp. Dr. Cadela has reluctantly agreed that the Probability Drive needs a lot more work before it can be used again. Oh yeah, she lived. Noonan was wrong when he pronounced her dead, which just once again shows that anything is possible."

Sitting in his ready room, Stafford pulled up the file Noonan had directed him to. After a brief crackle of static, an elderly man appeared on the screen and began speaking with a strong British accent.  
"Captain Stafford," he said, "I'm Admiral Stone, Starfleet Internal Affairs. If you're watching this recording, certain concerns regarding Commander Noonan have been risen in your mind."  
"Let me assure you that Commander Noonan is committed to his duty as a Starfleet Officer. His race is one that few people are aware of, for reasons you may or may not have already discovered. If you haven't made this discovery, I encourage you to avoid the entire issue."  
"Internal Affairs has been keeping an eye on these beings for almost two hundred years, and while Noonan is hardly the first to have entered Starfleet, he is the most recent, and the only one to serve on a long-range exploratory craft. He has no doubt taken certain measures to avoid suspicion, which in retrospect may seem invasive to you. Let me assure you that such measures have been fully authorized by Internal Affairs."  
"From what I understand, Noonan has been an excellent addition to your crew, and I encourage you to accept what he tells you at face value."  
As the recording ended, Stafford leaned back in his chair. So Starfleet knew something was up with Noonan, but hadn't seen fit to tell him. Obviously they didn't consider him a threat, and in all fairness he'd done nothing to give Stafford that impression either.  
Leaving his ready room, Stafford vowed to improve his relationship with Noonan, but that he wouldn't let his guard down, even for a minute.

Stafford had joined Noonan in Unbalanced Equations, Noonan sipping his glass of 'wine' while Stafford sampled some kind of fruit concoction that Steven had handed him. Something called a 'smoothie'.  
"So what's really in that glass?" Stafford asked.  
"Wine," Noonan said softly.  
"No, it's not!" Stafford insisted, "You can't live on wine."  
"OK, you've got me," Noonan confessed, "It's blood."  
"Stop kidding around!" Stafford chuckled, "Fine, I guess it's none of my business,"  
"So, did anybody every figure out what happened to Cadela's assistant?" Stafford wondered.  
"Jeffery found him cowering behind a shield generator," Noonan replied, "it took him 10 minutes to coax him out."  
"Ah. Makes sense. Hey, didn't Jall have a date tonight?" Stafford wondered, looking at where Jall was eating and laughing with a young man Stafford didn't recognize, "I wonder why he's with that guy instead of her."  
"Maybe it was cancelled," Noonan shrugged, "things have been a bit strange on this ship lately.  
"Lately?" Stafford asked.  
"Point taken. Incidentally, did you read the announcement from Crewman K'keketh and his wife?"  
"No, I didn't," Stafford leaned forward, "Divorce?"  
"Pregnant," Noonan smiled, "Sylvia is very excited. She's already helping them pick out baby cloths."  
"Aww," Stafford sighed, "The first baby born on Silverado."  
"In another 9 months or so, anyway."  
"Yeah. Wow," Stafford sat back, "Y'know, things like that really give a ship the feeling of community."  
"I thought you hated kids," Noonan pointed out.  
"Well, I do," Stafford admitted, "But it'll be a few more years before their little tyrant is ready to start running down the corridors."  
"Oh, I'm supposed to advise you that Madame Schoonbaert's 5th grade class would like to hold a 'Captain Stafford Day'," Noonan said, a mischievous grin on his face.  
"No."  
"But think of the children!"  
"No." Stafford took another sip of his drink.  
"I know a lovely young woman on Titan colony who would undoubtedly be very attracted to you," Noonan offered.  
"She's probably uglier than you are," Stafford cracked, "No deal."  
Noonan tapped on his padd, then slid it across the table to Stafford.  
"This is her?" Stafford asked.  
"Yes."  
Stafford bolted out of his chair straight for the door.  
"Where are you going?" Noonan called out.  
"I gotta find Madame Schoonbaert!" Stafford called out as the doors closed.  
Noonan chuckled to himself. Once again, things were going his way.

End

Next time on Star Traks, Silverado: An old adversary is back to teach everybody a lesson they'll very soon forget!


	6. Creative Coaching

Star Traks: Silverado

2.6 "Creative Coaching"

"Bridge to Commander Noonan," Jall's voice came over the comm.  
"Yes?" Noonan replied softly, eyes not leaving the padd he was studying. Noonan had parked himself comfortably in his office on Deck 4 to work through the monthly personnel reports.  
"I got a comm here for you from Federation HQ," Jall replied, "You wanna take it, or should I tell them to bite my-"  
"I'll take it, Lieutenant," Noonan cut in smoothly, really not eager to learn just what part of his anatomy Jall had in mind.  
The visage of a very attractive woman with blond hair, dark mascara and black lipstick appeared on the screen.  
"Lydia Thompson," Noonan said, forcing a small grin as he greeted Silverado's former Human Resources Representative, "How are you, my dear?"  
"I'm great," Lydia said with a flip of her hair, "I've been promoted to Assistant Manager of Federation Human Resources."  
"Congratulations," Noonan acknowledged, "I see being relocated from Silverado has been good for your career."  
"If you call being unceremoniously shoved out an airlock and left on Waystation 'relocated'!" Lydia snapped.  
"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Noonan shrugged, "Now what can I do for you?"  
"I'm just passing on some orders that I think you'll find most interesting," Lydia said, a sweet yet evil smile on her face."  
"Ms. Thompson," Noonan objected smoothly, "As I'm sure you recall, Human Resources does not have the authority to give orders to Starfleet ships."  
"Oh yes, and far be it for be to argue with protocol," Lydia agreed, "Admiral Tunney is on the comm with the prick, I mean, Captain Stafford as we speak."  
"Then why call me?"  
"I just wanted to be friendly," Lydia winked, then cut the channel.  
Noonan looked down at the orders Lydia had transmitted, a growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

"Isn't it kinda weird that Chris AND Matt got called for messages at the same time?" Ensign Trish Yanick wondered from the Conn console, taking her attention away from a e-magazine article on 'Gristly Gorn Gravies and Goulash', "I mean, they both go at the same time, kinda like when I was in high school, and these two boys were hanging out with me, then they both left to go play and told me that girls weren't allowed to do what they planned on doing."  
Fifebee waited patiently for Yanick to finish her story before gently interrupting.  
"Ensign, there are many reasons why two people might call two other people at the same time. Coincidences do happen you know. And I'll remind you that use of first names is inappropriate on the bridge."  
Jall snorted from his console.  
"Coincidences. Yeah, like finding out the hot ensign you took to bed is actually an Admiral's offspring," he muttered.  
"JAALLL!" Yanick whined, "Unless you're gonna give me all the juicy details, STOP BRINGING THAT UP!"  
"And," T'Parief added from Tactical, "as the rest of us to not want to hear the 'juicy details', we'll settle for you not bringing that up again at all."  
The doors to Stafford's ready room chose that minute to hiss open, revealing the Captain, eyes wild, hands gripping both sides of the door frame. Seconds later, the aft turbolift doors opened to reveal an uncharacteristically panicked Commander Noonan. The two officers looked at each other, then cried out:  
"THEY'RE SENDING US TO TANTALUS V!"

"I bet that was one set of orders that old Tunney was eager to sign!" Jall smirked from his seat at the conference room table.  
"It was your bulls**t at Waystation that prompted this!" Stafford hissed, "Anybody who would program a computer to play stripper music during a press conference belongs on Tantalus V!"  
Tantalus V, also known as the 'Federation Funny Farm', was home to a massive Federation-run mental health facility as well as several smaller private clinics. Beings from across the Federation (and beyond) could receive help for a variety of mental problems.  
"I think you're getting all worked up over nothing," Dr. Noel Wowryk coolly declared, "You all may be lowly sinners, but you're not crazy."  
"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Doctor," Noonan commented.  
"Dr. Wowryk has a-" Fifebee started.  
"Actually," Counselor Yvonnokoff interrupted, "Zere are people vith several neurosis and psychosis on zis ship zat could benefit from time at Tantalus V: Dr. Wowryk, your irrational fear of ze penis,"  
Wowryk and Stafford cringed.  
"Captain, your irrational fear of ze word 'penis',"  
Stafford cringed again.  
"Crewman Gibson's obsession vith pointy objects, Ensign Burke's addiction to Deltan pornography, Lt. Cmdr. T'Parief's fear of mice-"  
"I AM NOT AFRAID OF MICE!"  
"-Lt. Jall's various issues and Lt. Cmdr. Jeffery's inability to stand up to Dr. Wowryk," Yvonnokoff finished.  
Silence.  
"Who invited her, anyway?" Jall wanted to know.  
"I didn't" Stafford quickly pointed out.  
"Wasn't me!"  
"Not I!"  
"I did it," Noonan confessed. Everybody glared at him.  
"We're on our way to the loony bin," he shrugged, "inviting her seemed like a good idea, since she's a shrink and all."  
"Why are we going willingly?" Jall wanted to know, "Let's put up a fight!'  
"We're going willingly," Wowryk snapped, "in the hopes that you're the only one they want!"  
"I doubt they plan on committing all of you," Yvonnokoff shrugged, "Commander Noonan, for example, is the perfect image of mental health."  
"Even if we did put up a fight," Jeffery broke in, "They'd just hunt us down and drag us there anyway!'  
"Kind of like your girlfriend taking you for dinner," Stafford chuckled, earning a glare from Dr. Wowryk.

Captain's Log, Stardate: 57300.6  
"We've reported to the Tantalus V Mental Health Facility as ordered. I'm not sure who we're sending down there, but I really hope it's not me. I really, really hope it's not me."

"Ah, good," Dr. Pascal said over the main viewscreen, "we've been expecting you all for some time, Captain,"  
"Thanks," Stafford said weakly.  
"I think you're all in for a real treat!" Dr. Pascal said happily, "Now, I'll need the following officers to beam down: Matthew Noonan,"  
"HUH?"  
"San Jall,"  
"F**K!"  
"T'Parief,"  
"AWWW!"  
"and Christopher Stafford," Pascal finished.  
"NOOOO!" Stafford wailed, squeezing his eyes shut and falling to his knees, "I'm not crazy! I'm just fun-loving! I don't wanna be committed!"  
"What the hell are you going on about?" Pascal asked, annoyed, "Really, it's just a two-day session, how bad could it be?"  
"I'm not….what?" Stafford opened one eye.  
"Didn't Admiral Tunney tell you why you were ordered here?"  
"Uh, no. We just figured he thought some of us needed to be committed."  
Pascal laughed.  
"Hardly! One of our patients needs to give a seminar on Effective Coaching Skills, as part of her treatment. We asked Starfleet if they wanted to send somebody, and a very nice lady said she knew a ship in need of some leadership coaching."  
"Lydia Thompson?" Noonan guess dryly.  
"Indeed."  
"Great!" Yanick exclaimed, "So nobody's crazy, and you get to learn stuff! Cool! Can I come?"  
"No!" Stafford said quickly, "Uh, your leadership skills are already good enough," he amended.  
"Which patient is this?" Noonan asked.  
"Um, we're supposed to keep that a surprise," Pascal said nervously, "Here are the beam-down coordinates. See you soon!"

Stafford, Noonan, Jall and T'Parief materialized in a quiet reception room. The theme was 'soothing'. Soft colours, plants everywhere, muted light and even gentle musak dominated, well, more like submitted to, the room.  
"Is this supposed to help?" Jall asked, surveying his surroundings, "or drive people even MORE crazy?"  
"Welcome to Tantalus V," Dr. Pascal greeted them as he approached. A large human, Pascal had a very solid frame along with an equally impressive gut. His graying hair was thinning slightly and he had a distinct 'hospital' smell about him.  
"Thanks. I think," Stafford said.  
"Can we please get this over with?" Jall muttered, "This place is giving me the creeps."  
"This way," Pascal led them down a corridor. One side was made of clear panels, looking into a beautiful courtyard dominated by a waterfall and pond.  
"Pretty," Noonan commented.  
"It's part of our 'Sensuous Soaking' treatment," Pascal explained, "The water is quite hot. Many of our more…excitable patients are often calmed by a hot soak."  
"May we throw Jall in?" T'Parief asked.  
Pascal eyed the 7-foot tall behemoth uneasily.  
"Perhaps later."

The Silverado officers were led into a small auditorium, where they were seated facing the stage. Jall and T'Parief immediately left their seats to raid the refreshment table, returning with sandwiches, fruit punch and bagels.  
"That looks good," Stafford commented, reaching for an egg salad sandwich on Jall's plate.  
"Get yer own!" Jall objected, moving said plate quickly out of reach.  
"But I'm already comfortable!" Stafford whined.  
"Too bad!"  
"T'Parief, bring me food," Stafford ordered.  
"I will not demean myself," T'Parief said flatly.  
"This from the man who won't use his private dining room because 'he doesn't want to make his crew serve him hand and foot," Noonan commented.  
Grumbling, Stafford trudged over to the table and loaded a plate.  
As he sat, Dr. Pascal walked out onto the stage, microphone in hand.  
"Um, and now," he said, clearing his throat and looking nervously around, "I present to you 'Effective Coaching Skills', brought to you by the Tantalus V Review Board."  
Everybody's jaws dropped as the curtains parted to reveal over a dozen patients dressed in colourful show tune outfits, at the center of which was a Klingon woman.  
A very familiar Klingon woman.  
And then the music started…

(to the theme of 'Copacabana')

Her name is K'Eleese! She was a pirate,  
With bright red ribbons in her hair, and frilly under-things down there,  
She'd pillage planets, and blow up starships,  
But when she tried to get it all, she took a nasty fall,  
She made a big mistake, she put too much at stake,  
Now she's been treated, now she's a groovy gal,  
And she'll share her ways with you!

Here at the Coaching, Coaching Cabana,  
The greatest lesson you could have-ah!  
At the Coaching, Coaching Cabana,  
Well train you right up with a passion!  
Here with K'Eleese-ah, WE'LL HAVE FUN!

The song ended with K'Eleese doing a back flip off the stage and into a seat across from the Silverado officers.  
"So," she smiled, "What do ya think?"

"I think it's great," Fifebee commented dryly.  
"Ah figured ye might," Jeffery grunted as he stood on a hover-platform near the bridge ceiling, "  
"We've been in space for almost a year," Fifebee carried on, "My holo-relay is only designed for short-term planetary use and for occasions when I am off ship."  
"Ah know," Jeffery said, pulling wires from a small access port he'd opened, "but the relay was working so well. Besides, we've kinda been to busy with other problems up until now."  
"As I understand it," Fifebee replied, crossing her arms, "Engineering is still struggling to keep everything running smoothly.  
Lieutenant Ovens chuckled softly from his station.  
"We're not struggling!" Jeffery replied indignantly, nearly dropping the holo-emitter he was holding, "It's an old ship, she's bound to have a few problems."  
"I heard that,"  
"Butt out, Sylvia!" Jeffery growled, "yer supposed to be compiling the emitter control protocols!"  
"I'm finished," Sylvia said, sounding bored.  
"Then take a nap! Anyway," Jeffery went on, "Noel's been tracking some…medical problems that have been cropping up among the crew. Guess what she found out?"  
"Holy Water cures the common cold?"  
"Nay. She found that if ye look at the room assignments, all the affected crewmen live between Impulse Engineering, where we keep yer holo-relay, and the bridge, where ye spend most of yer time."  
"We've never studied the long term effects of humanoid exposure to the energy emitted by the holo-relay," Fifebee said thoughtfully, "what kind of medical problems did they experience."  
"Um," Jeffery turned red.  
"Yes?"  
Jeffery mumbled something Fifebee couldn't make out.  
"Excuse me?"  
"He said," Yanick piped in, "'low sperm count and erectile dysfunction'."  
Fifebee sighed.  
"In other words," she said, "You're finally starting to install holo-emitters because I make men soft, limp and infertile."  
"Yup."  
"This is not good for my self-esteem."  
"You could call 'The Vonna Show'!" Trish added helpfully.  
"Oh yes, and broadcast my humiliation to the entire quadrant," Fifebee turned back to her console, "what a novel idea," she muttered.  
"That's the last one," Jeffery said, slamming the access port shut, "We'll test these out, then Ah'll move on. We're gonna start with the bridge then do the Science Labs, yer quarters, Engineering, Computer Core Control-"  
"I have the schedule," Fifebee cut in.  
"Oh. Aye. Well," Jeffery scratched his head, "Um, Sylvia, please transfer Lieutenant Fifebee to the bridge holo-emitters."  
Fifebee fizzled out for a moment before stabilizing.  
"Looks fine to me," Yanick said with a smile.  
"Aye," Jeffery smiled, "How do ye feel?"  
Fifebee opened her mouth, closed it, then frowned.  
Suddenly the holographic officer started wavering and flickering, growing to twice her normal size, then shrinking down, down, down, until-"  
"QUACK!"  
"Uh-oh," Jeffery muttered.

"What is she doing here?" Stafford hissed to Dr. Pascal while K'Eleese, Noonan and T'Parief introduced themselves.  
"She's a patient," Pascal said, "She tried to-"  
"She crushed a planet and wanted to conquer the Klingon Empire. I know what she tried to do!" Stafford cut him off, "We're the ones that sent her here!"  
Nearly a year ago, K'Eleese had sabotaged Waystation while Silverado just happened to be in the neighborhood. Captains Beck and Stafford had teamed up to catch the pirate after she stole a dangerous piece of technology from Dillon Enterprises. K'Eleese had been caught, after inflicting serious damage to both Silverado and Waystation. She'd also used the device to crush a small planetoid down to the size of a large walnut.  
"Ohhh," Pascal nodded, "So that's why Lydia didn't want me to mention her name.  
"That bitch," Stafford swore.  
"I suggest," Pascal said, "that you put your personal feelings aside and enjoy the session. She really is a very…um, interesting person."  
"I bet," Stafford muttered.  
"A few things though," Pascal went on, "Your doctor gave her a pretty good mind-wipe; she's not going to remember you or what happened. Still, it would be a very good idea if you could avoid reminding her of anything that happened in her old life."  
"I can live with that," Stafford said, moving back to the table.  
"Welcome back," K'Eleese boomed in her hearty, deep Klingon voice, "Here, since you were busy when we did ours, I have made you a name tag!" She peeled the back off a sticker that said 'Hello, My Name is Chris' and slapped it on Stafford's chest, knocking the wind out of him. K'Eleese had penciled in small flowers and a happy face on the tag.  
"Uh, thanks."  
"Now then, let us begin..."  
As she spoke, Stafford tried to recall whether K'Eleese has seemed so…big when he last saw her. He hadn't seen much of her; he'd spoken to her over the bridge viewscreen and dropped by the brig once when she was being transferred to the vessel transporting her to Tantalus, but this was his first time up close and personal for an extended period.  
K'Eleese was a typical Klingon is many ways. Her build was best described as 'muscular'. Klingon body armor wasn't part of the dress code allowed by the facility, so she was instead wearing a thick, leather suit of the kind Stafford had once seen when watching a Samurai movie in the lounge. The leather tunic could barely contain her very, very ample chest, which he suspected was half of the reason why most of her former crewmen had signed up with her in the first place. Her hair was think and long, her skin swarthy. She was maybe a bit short for a warrior, but the thick biceps stretching the material of her tunic were clear signs that short didn't translate to weak.  
But here the resemblance to other Klingons ended.  
Rather then letting her hair fall back in a tangled mess, K'Eleese had carefully braided her hair until she had two thick braids running down her back, each one tied with dozens of blood-red ribbons. Her teeth were white as snow, and Stafford was certain she was wearing lipstick. Small happy-face earrings dangled from each ear, matching the broad smile that K'Eleese herself wore. Her nails were perfectly manicured, her toes pedicured.  
But it was her behavior that really put the icing on the cake.  
Klingon discipline is typically brutal, painful, often fatal and involves an impressive variety of clubs, sharp objects and pain-causing devices.  
K'Eleese's discipline involved whips, chains, electro-torture devices and depths of physical abuse that turned the stomachs of even the most twisted S&M masters.  
No wonder the Klingon High Command hadn't objected when Starfleet had sent her to Tantalus for 'rehabilitation'!

Dr. Noel Wowryk stepped out of the turbolift onto the bridge.  
"Trish?" she called, "Did you-"  
"QUACK!"  
"DON"T LET HER OUT!" Jeffery and Yanick cried as a small shape zipped into the turbolift, barely clearing the closing doors.  
"She's switched back on to the holo-relay!" Sylvia called out.  
"What's going on?" Wowryk demanded.  
"Um, we had a bit of an accident-" Jeffery tapped the call button, trying to summon another turbolift car.  
"Why is there a duck running around the ship?'  
"Um," Yanick looked at the floor, "that was Fifebee."  
Wowryk look at Jeffery incredulously.  
"You turned our Science Officer into a DUCK?" she demanded.  
"Sylvia! Shut her down!" Jeffery cried.  
"Her program is not responding," the computerized personality replied, "Would you like to abort, retry or ignore?"  
"Nice job, sweetie," Wowryk chuckled.  
"You have the conn!" Jeffery forced out, diving into the turbolift.  
Wowryk was quiet for a moment.  
"I have the conn?" she asked softly.  
"Yup," Trish giggled, "weirder things have happened.  
Wowryk sat down in the command chair, crossing her legs.  
"Can I order the crew to start praying?" she wondered.  
"That would violate the Charter of Rights and Freedoms," Ensign Bith pointed out from Tactical.  
"Oh," Wowryk frowned, "Can I prohibit sex?"  
"Nope."  
"Well, this sucks then!"  
"You could order everybody to do pushups, though," Yanick giggled.  
"Hmmm," Wowryk was thoughtful for a moment.  
"I've got a sensor contact," Ensign Bith reported, "Just came into the system."  
"Oh. Um. Well, what can you tell me about it?" Wowryk asked.  
"It's two meters long, one meter wide. One lifesign, very faint."  
Wowryk bit her lip.  
"Is it in transporter range?"  
"Nope."  
"Isn't there supposed to be somebody sitting here to give me advice?" Wowryk whined, pointing at Noonan's empty chair.  
"Like you'd ever take it," Yanick giggled.  
"OK, fine," Wowryk seethed, "if you're so smart, what would you do?"  
"Get Simon back up here.  
"Fine! Wowryk to Jeffery,"  
"I'm kinda busy!" Jeffery called out. In the background could be heard the sound of angry quaking and breaking glass. The line went dead.  
"Any other bright ideas?"

"OK," K'Eleese said happily, "this exercise will help you to prove your trust to each other."  
"But I don't trust Jall," Stafford pointed out.  
"Me neither," grumbled T'Parief.  
"But you're the senior officers of a starship," K'Eleese insisted, "you must trust in the honor of your fellows to succeed."  
Jall, Stafford, Noonan and T'Parief looked at each other, then began laughing loudly.  
"Stop it!" K'Eleese insisted, "SILENCE, FILTHY P'TAKS!"  
Everybody stopped laughing.  
"Oh my," K'Eleese frowned, "what came over me? Oh well! T'Parief, stand up on the stage. Chris, San, you stand over here," she led them to a patch of floor below T'Parief, "Good. Now, you two face each other, yes, like that. Now, when I count to three, T'Parief will fall backwards, into your waiting arms."  
"'Our waiting arms'? That sounds kinda gay," Stafford cracked.  
"You have a problem with that?" Jall frowned.  
"One!" called out K'Eleese.  
"I don't know if this is a good idea," T'Parief muttered.  
"Well, I just think that there's no point, what with women being more fun and everything," Stafford shrugged.  
"Two!"  
"That's a matter of opinion!" Jall snapped.  
"What?" Stafford was shocked, "You're not into that kind of thing…um, are you?"  
"THREE!"  
K'Eleese gave T'Parief a firm shove off the stage.  
CRASH!  
"You were supposed to catch him!" Noonan chucked.  
"Oops."

While T'Parief was being patched up in the facility hospital, Stafford and Noonan broke away from the auditorium for their own chat.  
"I don't think this is a good idea," Stafford started.  
"Obviously."  
"She's crazy! She's insane! She belongs-"  
"In a mental institution?" Noonan smirked.  
"I…yes." Stafford said.  
"Like Tantalus V?"  
"OK, OK, I see the point you're making!" Stafford snapped, "She's getting help! But it's been less than a year! How can they think of releasing her!"  
"They plan to release her?" Noonan was worried.  
"Yeah, if she can deliver her little coaching session, they'll let her out."  
"That's a bad idea," Noonan warned, "she's unbalanced."  
"Is this your 'special intuition' kicking in?" Stafford asked.  
"No," Noonan admitted, "Those talents don't always work well on other races. They don't work at all with K'Eleese."  
"Oh,"  
"We can't forget that she's a Klingon. Their idea of mental health is very different from our own."  
"Goody."

"For our next exercise, you shall be beating each other with sticks," K'Eleese announced.  
Stafford and T'Parief immediately exchanged grins before turning to look at Jall.  
"Um, excuse me?" Jall asked weakly.  
"With these," K'Eleese snapped, thrusting several foam bats towards them, "You will take out your frustrations on each other and build a more solid relationship. With each blow, you must express a reason for your frustration."  
"I'm liking the Klingon idea of mental health," Stafford muttered to Noonan.  
"Oh no," Noonan corrected, "this is a human concept. The Klingon version involves razor-sharp bat-leths."  
"You may begin," K'Eleese informed them.  
"You're always late for your duty shift!" Stafford cried, swinging his foam bat at Jall and connecting with a loud TWAP.  
"You insult my parentage 3 times a week!" growled T'Parief, bringing his bat down over Jall's head.  
"Your perverted thoughts soil my mind!" Noonan commented, carefully restraining himself lest his superior strength crush the battered Operations officer.  
TWAP!  
"You're insubordinate!" Stafford cried.  
TWAP!  
"Rude!"  
TWAP!  
"HELLPPP!"

"We're approaching the pod," Yanick reported from the helm.  
"On screen," ordered Wowryk.  
A small, cylindrical object appeared on the main viewscreen, tumbling slightly as it glided through space.  
"It's on a direct course for Tantalus," Ensign Bith reported.  
"No sign of any engines," Ensign Burke yawned, having been dragged out of bed to cover for Fifebee.  
"I'd hate for that to crash on somebody," Wowryk murmured, "Unless, of course, this is God's way of punishing somebody on Tantalus V for their many sins."  
"I think Starfleet regulations state that we're supposed to prevent things from crashing into planets," Lieutenant Ovens pointed out.  
"Oh, fine," Wowryk sighed, "bring it into Shuttlebay 2 then take us back into orbit.

"It looked bigger on the screen," Wowryk commented, stepping around the alien pod.  
"It's called magnification," Burke replied, "That's what the viewscreen is for, otherwise we'd just put a big window on the front of the bridge."  
The two of them were in the shuttlebay, Wowryk having turned the bridge over to Lieutenant Ovens.  
"There's some kind of writing," Burke noted, tracing his finger over symbols emblazoned on the side, "Doesn't look familiar."  
Wowryk shrugged.  
"Take it to the science lab and see what you can do."  
"Lieutenant Fifebee would really be better for this kind of thing," Burke whined, attaching the small anti-grav discs he'd brought to the pod.  
"Yes, but she's a duck right now. Unless you need help laying an egg or making duck a l'orange, you're on your own."  
The beautiful doctor turned on her heel and started walking towards the exit.  
"So, you're not helping me?" Burke called out.  
"No, I'd rather go boss more people around."  
Muttering to himself about power-hungry tyrants, Burke started pushing the alien pod down the corridors towards the turbolift.  
"What is it with the women on this ship," Burke mumbled, "they all want to be in control, they all want to push me around, just poor, feeble little-"  
"QUACK!"  
Looking down, he saw the feathered figure of Lieutenant Fifebee looking back up at him.  
"QUACK!"  
"Piss off!" Burke chuckled, "Yeah, that's right, I told you off and you can't do anything about it, can you! What's it like to be the lowly subordinate now?"  
Burke's tirade turned into a yelp of pain as Fifebee bit him firmly on the ankle.  
Shaking the crazed duck off, Burke started running down the corridor, pushing the pod in front of him.

"She's just leaving the shuttlebay," Sylvia informed Jeffery as the latter jogged down the corridors, "She's moving in your direction – FAST!"  
"I've got her now!" Jeffery declared, clenching his fists through the thick gloves he had pulled on to protect him from Fifebee's new beak. Her bite was now officially worse than her bark. He'd already chased her through the arboretum, where he'd found her swimming happily in the coy pond, through Stellar Cartography, Unbalanced Equations (breaking Steven's collection of antique 20th-century Ikea glasses) and then around the matter injection assembly 3 times before she fluttered down the warp core shaft to Main Engineering. Jeffery, panting and wheezing, had climbed into the turbolift, arriving too late to catch the errant waterfowl.  
"15 meters…10 meters," Sylvia counted down, "She's right around the-"  
Jeffery screamed in panic as a large, oblong object came barreling down the corridor, bobbing on anti-gravs as it plowed into him.  
Impaled as he was, Jeffery could only grunt at Ensign Burke as the blond man pushed the alien pod down the corridor.  
"She's pissed now!" Burke gasped, "and I'm running out of corridor!" As if to demonstrate he spun the pod around a corner. Jeffery groaned as pretty lights spun around his head. Two crewmen dived out of the way as Burke sped by.  
"Stop," Jeffery groaned.  
"Yeah, great idea," Burke wheezed, "then she can eat me from the ground up!"  
Having done a full circuit of the deck, Burke and Jeffery flew out of the corridor and into the empty shuttlebay.  
"Quick!" Burke cried out, "Climb onto the runabout!"  
"She can fly!" Jeffery objected.  
"Ohhh….right. Well, hide!"  
Jeffery looked around.  
The Fifebee-duck was gone.

"Captain, certain members of the crew have noticed that your body has a…um, distinctive odour," T'Parief forced out, fighting to keep a smile of his face.  
"Really," Stafford replied flatly.  
"Yes. Is there perhaps a medical cause I should know about? D-Does your species have a v-v-volatile endocrine system?"  
"No!"  
"I-I see," T'Parief lost the battle, erupting into a full fit of deep belly laughter.  
"Then perhaps," he gasps between chuckles, "you-you may want to b-bathe more frequently." Falling off his chair, the reptilian officer crashed to the floor, roaring with laughter.  
"Would anybody," K'Eleese forced out between clenched teeth, "care to comment on Mr. T'Parief's coaching method?"  
"It would be more effective without the laughter," Noonan said immediately.  
"No s**t," Stafford muttered.  
The current coaching exercise had brought up the ages old question: Just how do you politely and professionally tell an employee or subordinate that they stink? Stafford had been forced into playing the part of said subordinate.  
"If you think it's so easy," T'Parief chuckled, pulling himself off the floor, "why don't you show us how it's done?"  
"Please do," K'E'leese added.  
"Very well," Noonan shifted to face Stafford.  
"Captain," he started, "It has been brought to my attention that your-your body has-has a..AHH-HA-HA-HA-HA!"  
Tears started streaming down Noonan's face as he burst into giggles.  
"This is really starting to hurt my feelings," Stafford smirked.  
"YOU ARE NOT GRASPING THE CONCEPT OF THIS EXERCISE!" K'Eleese bellowed, "You will learn coaching skills, or I shall crush you like a-"  
"Planet?" Jall smirked. K'Eleese twitched.  
"A what?" she asked.  
"A bug," Stafford said quickly, "crush us like bugs!" Then, softly to Jall, "Shut up you idiot, we can't do anything to remind her of what happened! If she remembers what she did…"  
"Ohhh…" Jall said slowly, realization dawning on his features.  
"San, why don't you try," K'Eleese demanded.  
"Um, right, OK," Jall looked her nervously, suddenly reminded of how badly she had traumatized his good friend, Skoteth. K'Eleese's crimes would have sent her to a penal colony. Her treatment of her subordinates sent her to Tantalus V.  
"Uh, well, Captain," Jall floundered, hunting for the right phrase, "Um…you stink. You need to shower more. Can I go to the bathroom?" Without bothering to wait for permission, Jall bolted for the door, barely missing Dr. Pascal.  
"I've brought dessert," he announced as a member of the facility staff wheeled in a fresh food table, "I've got Maple Walnut ice cream,"  
K'Eleese twitched.  
"Apple Crunch,"  
K'Eleese twitched again.  
"Rice Krispie squares,"  
K'Eleese twitched a third time.  
"And these neat little cookies with cute little happy faces on them."

K'Eleese frowned, trying to remember what she was doing. She was…she was…giving a coaching session for Starfleet cowards? Something suddenly felt seriously wrong. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she was sure there was somewhere else she should be, something else she should be doing.  
But what?

K'Eleese had stepped out to use the little Klingon's room. The second she left, the Silverado officers converged on Pascal.  
"Are you sure she-"  
"Twitches like Wowryk when somebody mentions-"  
"Maple walnut ice cream? What were you thinking? Butter pecan is SOO-"  
"Screwed up beyond belief!"  
Finally, Pascal was able to get everybody's attention again.  
"Look, we've been working with her for over a year! Counseling, intensive psychotherapy, electro-shock treatments, hypnosis, neural realignments-"  
"Neural realignments?" Noonan gasped, "You've brainwashed her!"  
"Well, technically-" Pascal started.  
"Whatever you did, she's going down fast!" Jall cried out, "That woman is NOT sane! And probably never will be."  
Pascal shrugged.  
"Of course not," he said, "Why else would we take such extreme measures? But I assure you, we've made great progress in returning her to normal, functioning society!"  
"She's a Klingon! You're trying to make her act like a human!"  
"She was a pretty insane Klingon too!"  
"I don't believe this-"  
"I'm back!" K'Eleese announced happily, "For our next activity…"

The next activity Noonan actually found very interesting. Each participant was given several pieces of paper of varying shapes. The goal was to exchange pieces with other participants until you had the pieces necessary to form a perfect square. The catch was that you were completely unable to talk to your partners or point at the piece you wanted.  
Noonan reached out gently with his mind, urging T'Parief to give him the black square he was holding. Without realizing it, T'Parief immediately gave Noonan the piece, in return for a pink pentagon. He was able to obtain the teal U shaped piece from Stafford simply by catching Stafford's gaze and in return gave the captain a yellow square that would fill a hole in his shape.  
Stafford was across the table from Noonan and was eyeing a blue octagonal piece sitting in front of Jall. He nodded towards it, then gestured at his own pile of pieces. Jall blinked, then pushed a yellow triangle towards Stafford. Frowning, Stafford pushed it back. Jall pushed an orange L-shaped piece back at him. Clenching his fists, Stafford pushed it back. Jall started to push a green rectangle towards him, but Stafford swung out with his arm and slammed Jall's face into the table, his nose landing squarely on the piece Stafford wanted. Groaning slightly, Jall pushed the blue octagon over to Stafford.  
"I think that is cheating," K'Eleese growled, "And what is the punishment for cheating?"  
"I get a time out?" Stafford squeaked.  
"Yes," K'Eleese growled, thrusting her face towards him, "A time out…IN MY BEDCHAMBERS!"  
Dr. Pascal rushed towards her, a small device gripped in one hand. He pressed it against the back of K'Eleese's head, creating a soft buzzing noise. K'Eleese shook her head, then frowned.  
"What was I saying?" she asked.  
"You were telling the Captain that he must not assault his fellow officers," Pascal soothed her, "It's not very nice."  
"Yes," K'Eleese replied robotically, "not very nice."  
"She has mild reversions to her old self now and then," Pascal whispered, "Easily controlled with medication."  
Everybody exchanged uneasy glances.

Jeffery and Burke walked carefully out of the shuttlebay, eyes and ears alert for the ruffle of feathers or the click of a sharp beak. Pulling the alien pod behind them, they made their way to the turbolift.  
"I don't think this is going to work," Burke said doubtfully, eyeing the size of the turbolift compared to the two meter length of the pod.  
"Tilt it on one end," Jeffery advised, "Haven't ye ever helped anybody move a couch up a flight of stairs?"  
"We used a transporter," Burke muttered.  
"Well, Ah'm not authorizing a site-to-site transport just because yer too lazy to move this thing!" Jeffery snapped, "Y'know how much power those suck up? Or how hard it is on the equipment? There's a reason why they're for emergencies only!"  
"I know, I know, I get it," Burke shot back, "Man, you've been hanging out Sylvia too long, you're starting to sound like my mother!"  
"Help me tip this over," Jeffery growled, grabbing the pod.  
Together, the two men heaved, tipping the pod into the turbolift.  
"Uh, where do we fit?" Burke wondered.  
"Ah don't think we will," Jeffery admitted.  
The pod filled the turbolift to the point where the two of them would have to squeeze in between the pod and the doors to fit.  
"Sylvia?"  
"Yes, Simon?"  
"Could ye please do me a favour; send this turbolift car up to Science Lab One, then hold it there till we unload it?"  
"Of course, I'd be happy to." The doors snapped shut as the turbolift departed.  
"Showoff," Burke muttered.  
"Ye'd be amazed how far good manners can get ye," Jeffery admitted.  
"You have definitely been hanging around Sylvia too long," Burke repeated.  
"They keep Noel happy too," Jeffery smirked, "She let me kiss her on the cheek when I asked nicely."  
With that, Jeffery stepped into the newly arrived turbolift car.  
"Whoop de f**king doo," Burke grumbled.

Burke and Jeffery arrived in the corridor outside the science labs to the sound of an alarm going off.  
Rushing around the curve, Jeffery found that the pod had falled out into the corridor, blocking the turbolift doors and setting off the 'close the frickin' door, NOW!' alarm.  
"Aw, crap," he muttered, tapping at a nearby control panel and silencing the ear-splitting noise.  
"Help,"  
Looking down, Jeffery saw an arm protruding from beneath the pod.  
"Who's under there," he growled.  
"Crewman….Shwaluk," Shwaluk gasped, slowly being crushed to death by the pod.  
"Did ye try pulling this thing out of the turbolift,"  
"Yes-"  
"Ye idiot! Ye banged up the corridor wall, and yer bleedin' all over the carpet!"  
"Help,"  
"Oh, right. Jeffery to Transporter Room 1, emergency transport; send Crewman Shwaluk directly to Sickbay."  
As Shwaluk disappeared in a haze of transporter sparkles, Burke turned to Jeffery.  
"You know," Burke commented, "I really think we should have just used the transporter on this thing in the first place.  
Jeffery glared at Burke, then turned to resume his hunt of Fifebee.  
"I guess that means you're not going to help me move it into the science lab?" Burke called.

Jeffery crept carefully into the anti-matter storage facility. All around him were the storage pods that stored the volatile material. Anti-matter was so reactive, Silverado used less than a thimble-full on a typical day. The instant any amount of anti-matter, from single atoms to fist-sized chunks, came into contact with normal matter, both would immediately annihilate each other in a devastating explosion. For that reason, anti-matter had to be stored in special magnetic containment fields inside the pods. The pods were stored on the lowest desk of the ship, and the entire section could be jettisoned into space if it looked like the pods were going to breach.  
Jeffery ducked carefully under one pod, trying not to think of the gallons of anti-hydrogren slush that would come pouring down on him if the pod were to rupture.  
Using his tricorder he had tied into Fifebee's holo-relay and was using it to track down the exact location of the holographic officer. He needed to get her to engineering so he could figure out what the hell had happened.  
"QUACK!"  
"C'mon, Fifebee," Jeffery groaned, "Ah'm trying to help ye! Why do ye keep runnin' away?"  
"QUACK! QUACK!"  
Fifebee slowly waddled out of the space between two storage pods, looking at Jeffery inquisitively.  
"Good duck," Jeffery murmured in what was, he hoped, a soothing a voice, "Nice duck," he moved closer, slowly reaching out with one hand.  
Fifebee darted forward, biting down hard on Jeffery's outstretched hand. The thick glove he was wearing protected him to an extent, but it still hurt!  
"AARRRGGGHHH! Ye damned beast! Ah'll be serving ye for Christmas dinner!"  
"QUACK!" Fifebee screeched as she waddled away at full speed.  
"No, wait! Come back! Ah didn't mean it!"  
Speeding after her, Jeffery rushed past more storage pods, past several conduits through which the volatile antimatter was carried and through a heavy door.  
Catching a flash of tail feathers from up ahead, Jeffery skirted around the squat shape of the antimatter injector assembly, the glow of the warp core up above bathing the small chamber in flickering blue light.  
Once again in the corridor, Jeffery put on a burst of speed, trying to catch Fifebee before she could get lost in the maze of corridors and storage rooms.  
Firebee looked back and, Jeffery was certain, winked. With a loud QUACK she jumped up, stuck out her tongue and put on a burst of speed that only a hologram could possibly achieve, leaving Jeffery in the dust.

K'Eleese sat, a pleasant expression on her face as she listened to Stafford and his officers sharing their coaching experiences. Pascal had stepped out to check on another patient, and K'Eleese found herself much more relaxed without him watching her. The whole time though, something was nagging at her. She felt the strangest feelings towards these people. To Stafford and his First Officer, there was a sense of déjà vu; the sense that she had met them before. Had they gone for coffee sometime? Did she attack a ship they were on, or perhaps at some point slaughter a beloved family member?  
For the tall, beefy reptile, she found her feelings easier to identify: lust!  
"And so," Noonan was saying, "I explained to Crewman Shwaluk that installing sensor feeds in the woman's locker room was not only a violation of Starfleet regulations, but an invasion of their privacy as well."  
"Excellent point," K'Eleese responded, "explaining not only the regulation violated but the impact as well. Captain Stafford, your thoughts?"  
"Huh?" Stafford fought to rouse himself from what had very nearly been a pleasant nap, "Oh! I, uh, don't think Crewman Shwaluk really cared about the ladies' privacy. He's sort of a pig that way."  
"Um, I see," K'Eleese frowned, "How then, did you address that issue?"  
"I told him that if he did it again I'd assign him to waste processing," Noonan replied with a grin.  
"And it worked?" K'Eleese asked.  
"Like a charm,"  
"I think," Jall said with a grin, "that you should have threatened to sic Dr. Wowryk on him."  
Stafford laughed.  
"Yeah," he said, "Remember when he won the Karaoke contest and tried to get her underwear? Man, I have NEVER seen fingernails draw so much blood!"  
Something stirred in K'Eleese, a sudden memory of screams, fingernails and blood. Sweat-covered flesh, a ship. A Klingon ship? The name 'Jubilant Death' popped into K'Eleese's head. The name of the ship? Or just a good party?  
"I hardly think that kind of torture could be an effective disciplinary method," Noonan objected.  
"C'mon," Jall laughed, "I think he liked it. Most guys don't mind taking a bit of punishment from a chick!"  
"You," T'Parief growled, "Are one sick little targling,"  
"Maybe we should change the topic," Stafford interrupted, eyes darting towards K'Eleese.  
Little did he know, the damage was already done. Dr. Pascal's memory blocks, already straining under the presence of so many familiar enemies, snapped like a twig. Images came flashing back to K'Eleese; her ship, her crew, her daily 'disciplinary' sessions with her mate. She remembered plotting to steal…something from Waystation, and the way Stafford and his crew of misfits had interfered. Obviously, she'd been caught and locked up in a Federation facility, her ship impounded and her crew released.  
She had to get out of this brainwashing facility.  
"So the moral here," K'Eleese broke in, ending the argument and trying to stay in character "Is that when disciplining subordinates, threats are far more effective than quoting rules or regulations. And if subordinates put up a fuss, they must be beaten severely. Or confined to the brig," she quickly amended.  
"Our last item today," she continued happily, "will be another trust exercise."  
"Didn't we already do one of those? asked Jall.  
"You can never have enough trust!" K'Eleese snapped.

"Heeeere ducky, ducky, ducky!" Jeffery chanted as he moved slowly through Deck 18, near the base of the ship's 'neck', the connector between the saucer and engineering hulls.  
He tapped at his tricorder, which told him that Fifebee was right ahead, in the Forward Torpedo Control Room. Stepping as softly as he could, he stepped into the chamber.  
The Fifebee-duck was perched atop the Quantum Torpedo Loader controls. The actual torpedo launchers were accessible from the front of the control room, with the actual torpedoes being stored on the deck above, heavily shielded to prevent a lucky shot from damaging them. Although fueled and ready to go, the actual explosive components were stored separately until the order was given to arm the torpedo tubes, at which point the explosive components were added to the rest of the torpedo, the entire package then being delivered to the launching mechanisms; magnetic coils that propelled the torpedo out the tube at high speeds after which the torpedo's own propulsion systems took over.  
"Nice ducky," Jeffery moaned softly, taking a careful step forward.  
The Fifebee-duck shifted her weight, accidentally activating the launcher's maintenance mode; access hatches to the torpedo tubes snapped open. Through the open hatches Jeffery could see the launching mechanisms and the actual torpedo tubes. The outer doors were open with the stars visible beyond force fields.  
Enough was enough! Jeffery had to get her off that panel before she accidentally shut down the fields, venting the room to space!  
He lunged at the duck, missing and hitting the panel. Fifebee screeched, flapping her wings and running for the first open space she could see: the torpedo tubes.  
"NOO!" Jeffery cried, rushing forwards.  
But Fifebee was aleady making herself comfortable at the far end of the tube, beyond Jeffery's reach.  
"Ach! Don't do this!" Jeffery moaned, "C'mon Fifebee, Ah know yer not very happy with me right now, seeing as how I messed up your program and all."  
"Quack?"  
"But ye need to get by that! Ah know, yer probably being controlled by the duck personality, but somewhere in there is the real Fifebee, and Ah really want to make things right with her!"  
"Quack."  
Jeffery rambled on.  
"Cuz, well, y'know, I respect you, and Ah think yer a valued member of the team and all that. Ah know Burke wants ye back, cuz he doesn't know what the hell he's doing with that pod. And when the Captain gets back, he's gonna want ye back to!"  
"Quack?"  
"Aye. So, c'mon out of that tube, and we'll get ye fixed up."  
"Quack."  
Jeffery reached in, straining to get a grip on Fifebee.  
Fifebee jumped forward, bit him hard, then darted back. Jeffery gasped in pain, gripping the damaged limb.  
"What the hell was that?" he shouted, "That was supposed to be our heart-to-heart! Ah appeal to yer better nature, tell ye how loved ye are, and yer supposed to come back to me! What's wrong with ye?"  
"Quack!"

"Moooo!" Stafford called out, feeling thoroughly ridiculous.  
"Oink!" Jall replied in the same tone.  
K'Eleese's finale exercise was simple: To feel comfortable around other people, you first need to completely humiliate yourself in front of them. She likened it to the foolish hazing rituals practiced by something called a 'fraternity'.  
"We've all done that already," Jall had pointed out.  
"You will do it again!" K'Eleese has snarled back.  
And so the lights had been turned off and each officer assigned an animal; pigs for Jall and Noonan, cows for Stafford and T'Parief. The goal was to locate your matching animal in the dark auditorium going only by sound.  
"Moooo!" rumbled T'Parief. Well, he mused to himself, at least the trip to Yanick Farms is paying off. Stafford had little trouble locating him; his voice was the most distinctive one in the room. Noonan and Jall quickly located each other as well.  
"OK, K'Eleese, you can turn the lights back on!" Stafford called out.  
"That as kind of fun," Jall murmured.  
"If you have the mentality of a kindergarten student, maybe!" T'Parief shot back.  
The lights were still off.  
"K'Eleese?"  
No answer.  
The door hissed open, letting a shaft of light into the room.  
"Well, how did the first day…who turned out the lights?" Pascal asked as he reactivated them.  
"Where's K'Eleese," he asked slowly, "and why were you all sitting around in the dark?"

Alarms sounded throughout the facility as Stafford and his officers followed Pascal down the corridor. Guards were running around frantically, searching the huge facility.  
"I don't understand how one Klingon woman could escape 4 Starfleet officers!" he said again.  
"Don't try to pin this on us!" Stafford snapped, "You're the one who insisted she was safe! And that we participate in her little games!"  
"Oh, yes," Pascal said snidely, "Let's all turn off the lights when there's an insane killer in the room!"  
"You did insist she was cured," Noonan pointed out.  
"Shut up!"

K'Eleese giggled softly to herself as she overheard the exchange. Hiding in the janitor's closet, Pascal and crew had walked right past her.  
She quickly located and donned a set of maintenance overalls, barely able to close the zipper over her ample bosom. She tucked her hair into her clothing, hiding her long Klingon locks from casual site. She checked her reflection in a shiny metal mop pail. Hmm….something still wasn't right. Oh! Her cranial ridges! Her bumpy forehead was a dead giveaway.  
10 minutes later, a stocky woman with a dark complexion and a do-rag stepped out of the janitor's closet, a Dillon ShurCleen Dust Vaporizer slung over one shoulder.

Pascal had led Stafford and crew to the facility's nerve control center. The room wasn't much bigger than Silverado's bridge, despite the fact that the facility was several times bigger. It was a hospital, not a starship after all. Most of the day-to-day running of the facility was done from a wing of administration officers, where countless bureaucrats worked tirelessly. Only during emergencies was the command center used.  
"Attention all personnel," chanted a slim Bolian woman from one station, "This is not a drill. We have a patient escape. Patient is Klingon, about 5 foot 6 and two hundred and twenty pounds. Patient is happy and extremely dangerous."  
"Another one, huh Doc?" asked the Tellerite on duty as Pascal led the others in.  
"Another one?" Jall jumped in before Pascal could respond, "How may flipping patients escape this place?"  
"We've had to reduce our security force after we had some budget cuts," Pascal admitted, "President Dillon doesn't seem to care much for mental health."  
"He'll do anything to save a buck," Stafford agreed.  
"Patient has been spotted in Sector 23!" snapped a Vulcan male, tapping frantically at his console, "heading for Sector 34!"  
"Damn!" Pascal and the Tellerite swore together, "Right for the hanger bay!"  
"Lock it down!" Noonan suggested.  
"We did," replied the Tellerite, "But our security system isn't really top of the line."  
"Budget cuts?"  
"Yeah."  
"Captain," T'Parief broke in, "I suggest we allow Tantalus Security to handle the situation here while we return to the ship. If she does escape, we should be able to catch her."  
Stafford looked inquiringly at Pascal, who made frantic 'shoo' gestures as he turned to consult with one of his colleagues.

K'Eleese cursed herself for stopping to ask for directions. She'd been perfectly polite with the orderly she'd questioned; she only broke his arm after he refused to direct her to the hanger bay. She'd only had to break a leg and establish a firm grip on his testicles before he broke and pointed her in the right direction.  
Slipping through the corridors, she quickly located the passage to the hanger bay, guarded by 4 solidly built security guards. K'Eleese grinned and cracked her knuckles. It was time to show them why she was the most feared woman in the Empire!  
She walked nonchalantly towards the quartet, the Dust Vaporizer in one hand.  
"Hold it right there," snapped the man in charge, "This area is off-limits until further notice!"  
K'Eleese continued walking.  
"Last chance!" snapped the guard, "Stop right there!"  
She moved closer.  
"OK, drop her!"  
Just as they fired, K'Eleese flung the Vaporizer at the guards. 4 phaser beams struck the device, overloading its power supply and blowing it to smithereens. Before the guards could recover, K'Eleese was on them.  
She took the first guard out with a solid punch to the face before spinning and blocking a chop from the second. Delivering her knee into his groin, she sent him sprawling to the floor.  
The third and fourth guards came at her together from both sides, trying to flank her. She jumped back, reaching out and slamming the guards against each other.  
The two men rebounded, turning to face her. One moved to attack her while the other dove to the floor to retrieve his phaser.  
"Ooohhh, smart boys," K'Eleese said happily, dodging a roundhouse kick from the guard attacking her. She dodged in behind the kick, using the guard's momentum to spin him around, gripping him from behind.  
"Mmmm," she purred, "how often do you work out?"  
"Every day," growled the guard.  
"It shows," K'Eleese murmured approvingly, "Oh, the things I would do to you if I only had the time!"  
"Let him go!' snarled the other guard, holding her at phaserpoint.  
"Fool!" K'Eleese snapped. She flung one guard at the other, sending both off-balance. Darting in, she knocked the phaser out of Guard 4's hands, delivered a solid shot to the back of his head and still managed to find time for a couple of not-so-gentle gropes.  
Finally, it was down to K'Eleese and the guard she had found so appealing.  
"Why don't you let me go?" she snarled, "I could make it worth your while!"  
"Hardly!" he snapped back, "I don't need money!"  
"I wasn't talking about money!" K'Eleese said, easing the zipper on her overalls down. The guard's eyes went wide.  
"I…I….ohhhhhh….."

K'Eleese was once again on track for the hanger bay. The last guard wouldn't be telling anybody her location anytime soon; like most men she 'played with', he had been knocked unconscious long before she was finished.  
Making short work of the door lock, K'Eleese eased inside, holding the phaser she had stolen from her now-badly-bruised guard.  
Sitting to one side of the bay was either a very small starship or a very large runabout. She immediately recognized the insignia as belonging to Dillon Enterprises. Most likely somebody from the company was doing business at Tantalus V. Her other choices were a Federation runabout, an Andorian shuttle and a workbee.  
K'Eleese considered her options. The Andorian shuttle would be well-armed with powerful shielding, but she had studied Dillon Enterprises extensively when she had been preparing to steal something from their headquarters. A Dillon ship, especially one belonging to somebody high in the company, would probably be packed with high-tech stuff she wouldn't find in most ships.  
Bypassing the security lockout, K'Eleese entered the ship. The luxurious furnishings strongly hinted that yes, this ship belonged to somebody important. She quickly located the cockpit and started tapping away at the controls.

"Captain on the bridge!" chimed Sylvia pleasantly as Stafford stepped out of the turbolift.  
"Thanks mom, er Sylvia. Yellow Alert! Jall, Fifebee, I want full sensor sweeps, find out where she is and what…she's…" Stafford trailed off as he found his command chair occupied by Dr. Wowryk.  
"Who the hell put her in charge?" Stafford demanded, "And where's Fifebee?"  
"Uh, that would be me," Jeffery said in a small voice, deciding that now was the wrong time to bring up Fifebee's…condition.  
"Dumbass! Doctor, get out of my chair!"  
"What if I'm not ready to give you command back yet?" Wowryk asked with a sly grin.  
"It doesn't work that way!"  
"Oh," her smile faded, "Ah well, being in command is an overrated experience." With that, she pushed past Stafford and left the bridge.  
"Jeffery, I thought I left you in change," Stafford said, "But whatever. K'Eleese may be trying to escape the planet; I want you up here in case she has any surprises in store for us. And if you EVER put your girlfriend in charge of my ship again, I swear, I'll-"  
"I'm picking up a small vessel leaving orbit," Jall interrupted, "Looks like a long-range transport,"  
"Looks like she's runnin', " Jeffery called from the starboard Auxiliary panel, "Readins' getting' funny, I think she's powering up some kinda sensor block!"  
"T'Parief, lock phasers and fire!" Stafford ordered.  
Beams of energy shot out of Silverado's weapons array, one scoring a glancing shot against the shuttle while the others went wide.  
"She's taking evasive maneuvers," T'Parief reported, "And her sensor block is interfering with my targeting scanners."  
"Fire a torpedo," Noonan advised, "She won't be able to dodge one of those."  
"I don't know if that-" Jeffery started.  
"Firing," T'Parief stated, tapping his controls.  
Everybody looked to the screen, expecting to see a ball of destruction closing on the shuttle. Instead-  
"What the hell is that?" Stafford demanded.  
"Ohhhh…" Burke moaned as he checked his scanners, "Sir, we just launched a holographic duck at her. Oh, it's gone now. Must have gone out of range of the holo-relay."  
"Ah'm not pickin' up her ship at all," Jeffery reported, "She's foolin' our sensors."  
There was a shower of holographic sparks as Fifebee appeared by the science station, back in her humanoid form.  
"I am Jane 5-B, sentient hologram," she stated, then frowned, "Has somebody been tampering with my program? My subroutines are a mess!"  
Stafford turned to look at Jeffery.  
"Don't ask," advised the engineer.  
"Don't tell," Stafford sighed, slouching down in his chair.

"So when she went out of range of the relay, her program was reinitialized," Sylvia concluded as Jeffery tinkered with the holo-emitters he was installing in Sickbay, "Once that happened, it reset everything to the original parameters and purged the duck personality."  
"Ah,"  
"About that," Sylvia said, "I still can't figure out where that duck came from."  
Jeffery shrugged.  
"Probably somebody's holodeck program," he said, "Some little girl is probably crying because Daffy's gone missing."  
"Daffy Duck is black," Sylvia pointed out, "Fifebee was grey with a green head."

Fifebee was standing in Commander Noonan's office, ready to give her report. She found the deep red colours Noonan preferred to be strangely relaxing, and the various knick-knacks scattered about were very interesting to her as well. On one shelf was a scale model of the Vulcan Kir'Shara sitting right next to a model of an NX-class starship. A solid bookcase held everything from old paperback novels to heavy hardcover volumes; everything from 'Lord of the Rings' to 'Ancient Egypt – A History'. Padds dating all the way back to the 22nd century filled the lower shelves, Fifebee could see the big, bulky models used in the 23rd century right next to the small, compact modern-day version.  
"What have you learned about the artifact?" Noonan asked, playing around with a small sphere that Fifebee identified as a Bolian Fertility Idol.  
"Nothing," Fifebee said flatly, "I have analyzed and catalogued the symbols on the artifact, but they do not match anything in my database or the computer records."  
"You mean Sylvia's records."  
"Sylvia is the personality," Fifebee replied immediately, "The computer records are still just computer records, the same way my personality database is a personality database."  
"Point taken," Noonan conceded, "But you can't find anything on this object?"  
"Nothing," Fifebee affirmed, "And the Universal Translator can't make any sense out of the symbols."  
"Interesting," Noonan mused. He stood and paced behind his desk for a moment.  
"Continue analyzing the object," he ordered, "I'll fill in the Captain. I'm confident that given enough time you'll figure it out."

Crewman Gibson pulled himself out of the swamp muck for the third time.  
"Look, dude," he snapped, "It's not here! You missed it!" He'd been slogging through the tress, mud and grass for hours, trying to find the damned thing. Now their holodeck time was almost up, and for what? Did he get to make out with a supermodel? NO! Did he get to shoot any bad guys and save the world? NO! All for Roscoe's inane hunting program!  
"I so did not!" Crewman Roscoe snapped back, "I was aiming right at the damned thing and I saw it disappear when I fired! That duck is dead, and we are going to f**king find it, roast it and eat it!"  
"Dude, you suck!" exclaimed Gibson.  
"What we need is a hunting dog," Roscoe decided, "Sylvia, could we get a hunting dog in here please?"  
"What breed, boys?" Sylvia asked.  
Roscoe and Gibson exchanged glances.  
"Uh, I dunno."  
"Well, how does a nice pit bull sound?"  
"Cool!"  
The dog materialized and promptly began sniffing at the ground.  
The holodeck doors appeared in the middle of the swamp, disgorging Crewman Shwaluk into half a meter of muddy water.  
"You're late!" Roscoe called out over Shwaluk's squawk of surprise.  
"I was in Sickbay!" Shwaluk snapped back, pulling himself onto firmer ground "After being crushed to death by a big-"  
"GRRRRRR!"  
"What was that?" Shwaluk asked in a small voice, turning to see a very large, very angry dog right behind him.  
"AHHHHH!"

Captain's Log, Stardate: 57318.6  
"We've spent several days combing the area for K'Eleese's ship, but haven't found any sign of her. Nothing. Not a single painted happy-face or sexually abused crewman. At least she's on her own; whatever she has planned can't be too major."  
"Fifebee still hasn't figured out the alien pod. She has detected a stasis field, so whatever is in suspended animation. Doesn't matter whether it takes us days or decades, to open that thing, so I'm not making a big deal out of it. I'm sure she'll figure it out sooner or later."

Several systems away:

Ha! She was free! K'Eleese giggled with joy as her small, stolen ship cruised through space. In a few days, she'd be in the Acturan system. A few carefully planned deaths here, a forged will there and she'd be back on her feet. With carefully planning and just a bit of luck, she'd find some way to reach her goals.

End


	7. Captive Audience

Author's Note: This story was guest-written by another author from the Star Traks Nexus and Corner Grocery Store. Due to FanFiction's recommendation, I am not naming names. However I do have his full permission to include this story as part of Silverado Season 2. (And I wrote him a story for his series, Star Traks: The Vexed Generation, in return.)

Star Traks: Silverado

2.7 "Captive Audience"

By Anthony Butler

Eva Yvonnokoff sat back in her chair and sighed. "Is zat all ze calls for today, Bart?"  
Bartholomew Gibson, seated in the cramped control room on the other side of the holocameras from Yvonnokoff's office "set" gave her a thumbs-up sign, and punched some controls, closing down the holographic linkup to the Associated Worlds Network.  
"Anything else, Doc?" he asked as he stepped out of the booth.  
Yvonnokoff leaned forward on her desk, patting her ever-present padd thoughtfully. "No. I'm vine for now. But vhat about you? Are you still feeling a zense of lethargy and loss?"  
"I never said I..."  
"Sure you are, Bart. It shows, and I'm not ze only von who's noticed. Your friends zee it, too. Shwaluk and ze others. Zhey came and told me you ver depressed. Zis eesn't goot!"  
Bart scratched his head. "I, uh, I didn't even understand that last sentence, Counselor. But I really don't know what you're talking about."  
"Food for thought. You'll come around, and zen ve'll talk. Special session. Just for you!"  
"Sure. I guess," Bart shrugged, and headed out of the studio, which was just one of the Silverado's cargo bays that had been refitted, for Yvonnokoff's use, by Commander Noonan. Something that, even now, seemed to cause Captain Stafford chagrin.  
Yvonnokoff made a note to speak to Stafford about his feelings of hostility toward Noonan, when a small beep sounded in the control boof. She scooted out of her chair and ducked into the booth, checking the console. Someone was calling!  
She pressed a control. "Zees is Vonna! I'm zorry, but ve're not broadcasting at ze moment. I'm listenink, but I'll be listinink more closely when you call me tomorrow vhile I'm on ze air vit a live audience. Check local listinks!"  
A face appeared on the console screen. The woman on the screen was pale, with dark hair, and a youthful, rebellious scowl. "Counselor. Glad I could reach you. You weren't in your actual office, so I figured you were in your fake office."  
"Do I know you?" Yvonnokoff queried, a little off-put.  
"Stacy Spencer, Associate Vice President of Programming, AWN," the woman said with a plaster smile. "We've communicated by Federnet message, but haven't had a chance to meet."  
"Stacy. Good of you to call. I'm goink off-duty right now, zo if you could contact one of my staff, I'm sure I can call you back zome other time."  
"Oh. Okay. That's fair. You work hard, and need some time off."  
"Vell, it has been a long day, vhat vith vorking two jobs..."  
"We at AWN understand your need for time off," Stacy said flatly. "So until you have recovered sufficiently to meet with me, let's pull your show off the air. And all our funding and sponsor support, as well. And that cushy chair behind your desk. Yeah, that's ours too."  
Yvonnokoff tugged at a loose strand of hair that had fallen from her tight bun. It was starting to feel tighter by the moment. "Your reaction zeems a bit irrational, my dear. Perhaps ve should talk about zis..."  
"Perhaps VE should talk about what I called to talk about, like, now."  
Yvonnokoff sighed and sat down behind the console, leaning toward the monitor. "I'm not accustomed to being treated like zis."  
"Condolences. Look, we need you to go to a psychology conference on Beta Arondai Five, to shill for your show."  
"Shill?"  
"The usual," Stacy said, glancing down at some notes. "Tell the crowd how much you're helping people. What a fantastic service your show is doing for the Federation. Blah, blah, blah. I'm sure you'll come up with something."  
"I'll have to clear zis vit Keptin Stafford, but..."  
"All taken care of. We got Stafford to sign off."  
"You..."  
"Yeah. We gave him a runabout. It was really pretty easy."  
"A runabout?"  
"Yes. Emblazoned with the AWN logo, which you will land at the conference and step out of in grand fashion. It's all in the notes I'm sending to you. Just make sure Stafford gets the runabout when you're done with it. He's very excited about getting a second one, apparently. The guy is very easily amused."  
"But..."  
"That's all. Have a nice day!" Stacy grinned, waved, and cut the channel.  
Yvonnokoff leaned back and sighed. "Vhat a beetch."

Captain's Log,  
Stardate 57345.4. The Silverado is on course for a routine mission to catalogue gaseous anomalies in the Tutyte belt. Meanwhile, Counselor Yvonnokoff is leaving for two weeks to go to some kind of conference in a nearby sector, but I don't really know the details. I understand it'll be entertaining and informative, though, and that's good enough for me. Plus, when she gets back, we get to keep the runabout. Yay!

Counselor Yvonnokoff sat back on her bunk on the runabout Niagra, going over the notes Stacy Spencer had sent her on the conference. She couldn't say she was too pleased at the bossy way in which AWN was treating her. Did they not realize she was a professional? She made a mental note to take this up with her usual contact at AWN when she returned to the Silverado. Meanwhile, she had a commitment to keep, and she was bound and determined to go through with it, no matter what got in her way...  
BOOM!  
Suddenly, the runabout shook, nearly knocking Yvonnokoff out of her bunk.  
She shot up in bed. "Computer! Vhat's happening!"  
"Unidentified vessel approaching and opening fire on us."  
"Vell? Fire back!"  
"This is a civilian runabout, and as such, is not equipped with weapons."  
"Yvot!" Yvonnokoff cursed, and rolled out of bed. She dashed into the cockpit, briefly wishing she had a more communicative computer. Sylvia had her faults, but she was at least friendly (most times) and not as dry and atonal as the standard-issue Federation computer on this civilian runabout.  
Her hands raced across the navigational and sensor controls. This had limited effect, of course, because although she was required by the academy to get "checked out" on a number of flight systems, she didn't actually retain any of it. She had more important things to worry about, such as folks' mental wellbeing.  
One thing Yvonnokoff could tell, though, was that she couldn't access any of the ship's sensors. And that wasn't just because she didn't know how, it seemed as though sensors were being jammed.  
Before she could think of a way around that, though, Yvonnokoff felt the familiar tug of a transporter beam latching on to her.

U.S.S. SILVERADO  
THE NEXT DAY

"Computer, where's counselor Yvonnokoff?" Ensign San Jall said tersely, tapping his foot as he waited outside the door to Yvonnokoff's office.  
"How many times have I told you not to call me that, silly boy. I'm Sylvia," the Silverado's computer replied musically.  
"Right. Sylvia. Where's our counselor?"  
"She's at a conference?"  
"Why wasn't I notified?"  
"You were. You work at ops. It came across your screen, along with the other daily reports that are at your disposal whenever you call on..."  
"Right, right," Jall said. "So she's not here."  
"That's affirmative."  
"Well, I need someone to talk to."  
"You can talk to me."  
"You're a computer."  
"I'm Sylvia!"  
"Same difference," Jall grumbled, and turned.  
Suddenly the door to Yvonnokoff's office slid open automatically. Jall turned when he heard the whirr of the replicator within, and smelled a delicious scent. "Is...is that?"  
"Rhubarb pie! Come, have a slice. And some nice, hot tea. Let's chat a bit!" Sylvia's voice said.  
"Well...it seems a little odd, talking to a disembodied voice, but...that pie sure does smell good."  
"Get in here then. We'll have a nice chat. We're flying into an ion storm right now, so there's really not much for me to do..."

PARTS UNKNOWN. . .

Yvonnokoff materialized, lying on an inclined leather couch, and immediately sat up fully.  
"Hello, vhat's this?"  
"Oh. Good. She's awake," a surly voice mumbled from beside Yvonnokoff.  
The counselor turned to see the source of the voice was a leather-clad, muscular Andorian woman, leaning back and sharpening what looked like a nasty ceremonial blade.  
"May I ask who you are?" Yvonnokoff inquired.  
"Shratz," the woman snapped. "I'm sure you've seen my show, 'I'm Okay, You're on Fire.'" It's the centerpiece of the Andorian Society's Self-help Holochannel Organization (Limited Enterprise)."  
"Ees there an acronymn for dat?"  
"There is, but when I tell people they always look at me funny."  
"I can't see vhy," Yvonnnokoff said thoughtfully. "Oh. Right." She glanced up at Shratz. "Ve don't get Andorian signals on Silverado. But I find it interesting you have a show. I do too. Ze 'Vonna Show.'"  
"It's zhhixmexx," Shratz spat. Literally.  
"So you like it?"  
Shratz just sneered.  
"Did you say 'I'm Okay, You're on Fire?"  
"Yeah. I bring on a series of malcontent head cases and try to tell them what to do with their lives. The audience votes which one is worst off, and that one gets immolated."  
"You set your patients on fire?"  
"Just the hopeless ones. We use a flamethrower."  
Yvonnokoff stared up at the ceiling of the ovoid, neutral-colored beige and brown room.  
"Vhat are ve doing here? Vhere ees here?"  
"Your guess is as good as mine. I was on my way to a conference when ZAP! I appeared here."  
"And ve're by ourselves?"  
"For the moment," Shratz said.  
Yvonnokoff rubbed her chin. "I came here under similar circumstances. Vere you goink to a conference on Beta Arondai Five?"  
"Yes. I was supposed to shill for my show, whatever that means."  
"Me too," Yvonnokoff said thoughtfully. She looked across the room. "Zere are two other couches like ours, around zis circle. Zat indicates others vill be joinink us."  
"You're a mathematician by trade, then?"  
"Counselor."  
Shratz leaned back. "I'd never have guessed."  
"I vonder who else ees coming?"  
"It may be a while. Want me to try and set you on fire while we wait?"  
"Thanks, but no."

The desktop viewer pivoted as Simon Jeffrey stretched out on the couch opposite Yvonnokoff's desk. Sylvia looked out from the viewer with a patient, understanding expression. "Go on, Simon. Keep talking. It's good for you."  
Jeffery shifted on the couch. "I dinna know where to start. I mean, I spent my Academy days takin' apart computers and puttin' em back together. I'm not used ta them takin' me apart."  
"I may be a computer, Simon, but I've got algorithms and neural pathways just like you. I can understand the way you think, in ways humans might not even be able to. I have access to some of the best psychological analysis in the galaxy. Plus, I love to listen. So just let it all out."  
"I don't think Dr. Wowryk wants me."  
"This again," Sylvia said flatly.  
"What?"  
"You're not being your own person. You're trying to live through her. To identify yourself with a relationship. Surely you see how hurtful that is to your psyche!"  
"Not really."  
"Well, it is. You're good enough to stand on your own two feet. Let Noel enhance your life, if you want. But don't make her your life. Don't live and die by what she's thinking. Don't you see how damaging that can be to you?"  
"I think so."  
"You're a strong man. You're handsome, charming, and great with a hydrospanner. Why, the way you worked me over during that computer core refit last week..."  
Jeffery was off the couch and on his way out the door in a heartbeat. "I'm sorry, Sylvia, I just canna do it. Ye look just like his bleedin' mother, for pete's sake! She made me a pie once!"  
"That pie represents something, Simon!" Sylvia called after him.  
"I dinna want to know!" Jeffery cried, running out, covering his ears.

"Guess it's safe to say all is well," Captain Stafford said with a contented sigh, sitting in his command chair and staring idly at the viewscreen.  
"Sir, we just received word from Counselor Yvonnokoff," T'Parief rumbled from the tactical station.  
"Oh yeah?"  
"She is having a wonderful time at the conference."  
"Did it say wonderful? Or did it say 'vonderful.'"  
"I'm not at liberty to say, sir."  
Stafford smirked. "You just don't want to do the accent."  
All he got in response was a vague rattling sound from the hulking tactical officer that indicated that the matter was closed. Meanwhile, Ensign Jall stepped out of the turbolift, whistling a happy tune as he relieved the officer at ops.  
"What are you so damn happy about?" Stafford asked, glancing up.  
"I have a purpose!" Jall said, tapping at his console. "A special purpose!"  
"Who says?"  
"Your mother."  
"Don't get smart with me, mister."  
"No, I mean it. Your mother really helped me out."  
"You mean Sylvia? The ship's computer?"  
"Ship's computer, Freudian nightmare of massive proportions..." Stafford's eyes widened as he considered this. "Hold on. What's she doing giving you advice?"  
"She's filling in for Yvonnokoff while she's off the ship. Good thing, too. The people on this ship are really screwed up."  
"Obviously," Stafford said. "But there's no reason my mother should be screwing them up more." He glanced up. "Oh, Mother..."  
"She prefers to be referred to as Sylvia now," Jall said, turning at his console.  
Stafford glared at Jall. "Sylvia!"  
No answer.  
"Computer, respond," Stafford said tersely.  
After a few moments, Sylvia's voice finally piped in: "Now, dear, you know I don't like being referred to that way."  
"Can we talk?"  
"I'm with a patient right now. But if you'd like, you're welcomed to make an appointment. Today's pretty much booked, but tomorrow I can probably shift some things around in the morning..."  
"Cut channel," Stafford snapped, and stood up. "You have the bridge, Jall. I'm going down there to have a word with..."  
"Your mommy?"  
"Shut up!"

Yvonnokoff sat on the fainting couch, going over in her mind anyone who would bear such a grudge on her as to kidnap her, but wasn't having much success.  
Anyway, that didn't explain why an Andorian was there, too. Not to mention the two others who hadn't arrived yet.  
As if on cue, the transporter buzzed to life, and another person appeared on one of the spare couches. This person was a narrowly-built, weasely looking older man with solid, dark eyes.  
"Roi Estellan?" Yvonnokoff asked, getting off her couch and jogging up to the man. "I've been a huge van of yours seence your book on Captain Picard's hair envy syndrome! And your analysis of former Presdient Jaresh-Inyo's schizophrenic psychosis vas groundbreaking!"  
The Betazoid blinked. "Do I know you? Are you part of the conference?"  
"I'm a hostage here, much like you," Yvonnokoff said.  
"But she's much more annoying than me," Shratz muttered from her couch.  
"How did we get here?" Estellan asked. "I'm supposed to be..."  
"...at a conference on Beta Arondai Five?"  
"...finishing my sentence," Estellan finished. "I'm supposed to be finishing my own sentences."  
"It's really an honor meetink you."  
"I'm going to kill my agent," Estellan muttered. "After I kill you two. Is there coffee somewhere, or do I have to grow the beans myself?"  
"Zhere are no replicators, Mister Estellan," Yvonnokoff said. "Matter of fact, zhere ees not much in this room at all besides the couches and lighting elements in ze ceiling. Not even a door."  
"That's just great. And I'm supposed to start production on my new show tomorrow," Estellan muttered.  
"New show?"  
"Something my agent came up with. Another reason I want to kill him. I'm supposed to be doing a special on telepath burnout tomorrow. Other Planets Network is broadcasting it to a billion outlets."  
"Something ve all have een common, zo far," Yvonnokoff said, as the transporter sound once again filled the room, and with a flash, the final couch's occupant materialized.  
The other three raced over as the paunchy, balding Tellarite sat up, looking around, disoriented.  
"Doctor Brill!" Yvonnokoff exclaimed. "Ees it really you? Vrom ze Doctor Brill Show?"  
"As sure as Zeratta beasts don't need fur coats," the burly man replied, pushing to his feet. "Just a bit of old fashioned wisdom. What is this place? The Green Room? I'm not on until the workshop on Deltan Love Triangles."  
"This isn't the green room, Brill. You're not at a conference," Estellan said dully. "But if you were, I'm sure your scads of fans would flock to you, oozing adoration."  
"You're haughtier than a screeching Kitatta Owl's front claw," Brill muttered.  
"Vell, for better or vorse, ve're all here," Yvonnokoff said, looking around the room. "And ve're all holovision therapists with varyink degrees of success. So why do you think we're here, and vhat do our captors vant?"  
Everyone was quiet a moment.  
"Anybody want to be set on fire?" Shratz offered.

"So you're thinking that you don't talk enough about how you don't talk enough," Sylvia stared out of the viewscreen, nodding sympathetically, as Ensign Trish Yanick sat in the chair opposite the monitor, her knees drawn up, hugging them.  
"Yeah. It's like we don't talk, but even when we do, we don't talk about how we're not talking."  
"You talk about other things."  
"Yes."  
"So you do talk."  
"Not all the time."  
"You realize, don't you, that you're dating a hybrid made up of Klingon, Gorn, Andorian, and what's the other one?"  
"Those are the only ones..."  
"Well, those races aren't known for being overly conversational."  
"They're not?"  
Sylvia glanced to the side, probably accessing some computer database. "As a matter of fact, they do a lot of glowering. And they have some...weird rituals."  
"Yeah, well I know some of the sex ones..."  
"Fascinating!" Sylvia exclaimed.  
Just then, the door opened, revealing Stafford.  
"Ah hah!" he announced, striding in.  
"This is a closed session. The door was locked," Sylvia said haughtily.  
"Captain's override," Stafford said.  
"Captain, we were just..."  
"Don't worry, Trish. I'm here now," Stafford said. "You don't have to be polite and pretend like Sylvia is helping you."  
"But she is!" Yanick said, standing up. "She's convinced me that T'Parief and I have been talking enough, after all, so we don't need to talk about how we don't talk."  
"Come again?" Stafford asked, then shook his head. "Nevermind, I don't care." He turned to Sylvia's monitor. "Stop this at once."  
"Stop counseling and helping the people on the ship?"  
"Well, when you put it that way, I seem like an ass," Stafford said.  
"You are an ass, Christopher," Sylvia said. "Here I am trying to do a service to the ship, and you're reviling me. Making me feel like less than a person!"  
"Well, you aren't, technically, a person..."  
"Oh, now you've really made me mad," Sylvia muttered, and the screen suddenly went dark.  
"Now you've done it," Yanick said to him scoldingly.  
"Aren't you supposed to be on the bridge now?"  
"I'm using sick leave."  
Stafford nodded. "Go."  
"Yes, sir," Yanick said, ducking out.  
"Jall to Stafford. We just got a kind of confusing comm from Starfleet Cartography."  
"Can't be any more confusion than the rest of today. What's it say?"  
"Remember that planet, Beta Arondai Five? Where we sent Yvonnokoff for the conference?"  
"Vaguely."  
"Well, after Yvonnokoff filed her flight plan, it went through the usual confirmations and..."  
"Get to the point, Jall."  
"There is no Beta Arondai Five."  
"Is there a Beta Arondai Four?"  
"Beta Arondai is an uninhabited trinary system with six class-Z planetoids."  
"Strange place to hold a conference."  
"Don't think there is a conference there, sir."  
"We just got a comm from Yvonnokoff saying she was having a great time!"  
"Even if she is having a great time now, I doubt she's having it there. And I'm pretty sure it wasn't her who sent the message."  
"Damn it. I'll be right up!" Stafford muttered, dashing out of the therapist's office.

"You look older in person," Roi Estellan said, leaning back on his assigned couch.  
"Eef you mean more dignified, I take zat as a compliment."  
"I didn't mean it as a compliment. By the way, you're mildly obsessive."  
"Ztop reading my mind!" Yvonnokoff snapped.  
"Just telling it like it is," Estellan muttered and rolled over.  
Shratz paced, clenching and unclenching her fists. "We must be released. We cannot continue to sit here and abide our capture."  
"Actually, zat vas exactly vhat I vas going to suggest."  
"What good will that do?" Brill asked, leaning up from his couch. "We're as vulnerable here as a plarnik hanging from a mamba vine."  
"I second that," Estelann mumbled. "Whatever he said."  
"COUNSEL OR DIE!"  
"Vhat?" Yvonnokoff called out, startled, looking around for the source of the booming voice.  
"COUNSEL OR DIE!"  
"Who's saying that?" Shratz asked. leaping into a battle-crouch. "Who threatens the life of Shratz of the Hundredth Hive!"  
The lights in the room suddenly went dark, which filled the room with panicked mumbles.  
When the lights went back up, a lone figure stood in the middle of the room.  
"Hi, I'm Cody," the easy-going middle-aged man said, smiling around at the others in the room. "How are you all doing?"  
"Who are you?" Yvonnokoff asked, approaching the man.  
"I'm the..."  
"HE'S THE GUY!"  
"Yes, the guy," Cody said.  
Estellan, Shratz, and Brill likewise approached.  
"What guy?" Brill asked.  
"COUNSEL OR DIE!" the voice boomed again.  
"Guess they mean business," Cody said, and ambled over to one of the empty couches and laying down. "But I have to warn you, I've got lots of problems."  
"You seem harmless enough," Shratz said.  
"I dream about killing puppies," he said with a smile.  
"Vell, pull up some chairs, people," Yvonnokoff said. "I've got a feelink zat this guy ees our way out."  
"Or we're just being toyed with until we get killed," Shratz said.  
"I can kill you all if you want," Cody said helpfully. "Although it would help if you looked like puppies."  
"Zo," Yvonnokoff said. "Who is goink first?"

"Where are we, people?" Stafford asked, pacing the bridge as the Silverado raced through space.  
"We have a warp trail, but it ends rather suddenly," Lieutenant Jane Fifebee announced from sciences.  
"Where?" Commander Noonan asked, crossing behind Stafford, also pacing but in the opposite direction.  
"Where the runabout stopped, apparently," Fifebee replied and checked her scanners. "It's still there, as a matter of fact."  
"Life signs?" Stafford asked.  
"None aboard," Fifebee said. "Nor is there a body. She did not die honorably, at least not aboard the runabout."  
Stafford glared at her.  
"Sorry, sir. The memories of a Klingon scientist are playing havoc with my algorithms."  
"Get it fixed," Stafford said. He glanced back at tactical. "T'Parief: Take a team over to the runabout and comb it for evidence." The Gorn/Klingon/Andorian hybrid held up his claw as if to ask for clarification, but Stafford cut him off. "No, you're not literally combing the runabout. It's an expression. Get moving."  
"Can I go, sir?" San Jall asked, rising from his station.  
"Feeling a personal connection to this one, Jall?" Stafford asked, surprised.  
"No, I'm missing a sweatshirt and I'm thinking Yvonnokoff might have snatched it for her trip."  
Stafford waved a hand. "Fine, go. I want a lead of some kind in twenty minutes!"  
"And if we don't have a lead?"  
"Then I'm going to jump up and down and get very irritated," Stafford muttered.

"You're crazy," Roi Estellan said, leaning back in the chair he'd pulled up to Cody's couch. "I've read your mind and I can tell that much."  
"You have deep, pensive eyes," Cody said, leaning forward and staring into Estellan's eyes.  
"Thanks," Estellan muttered and turned back to the other counselors. "Okay, I give up."  
"Zat easily?" Yvonnokoff asked. "You stared at him vor two minutes!"  
"Yes. I'm at a loss."  
"But you're a telepath!"  
Estellan twitched, his eyebrow raising.  
"Vat? Aren't you a telepath?"  
"I have a very successful writing career!" Estellan announced, rising from his chair, holding an authoritative finger up in the air.  
"I think I know where this is going, and it stinks like Vole dung in a sonic shower," Dr. Brill muttered.  
"You're not a telepath."  
Estellan turned on a heel and headed to the back of the room. "I'm a human with black contact lenses. My PR people thought Betazoids played better in the book market!"  
"I'm sending out a scathing press release about you," Shratz sneered. "Then I'm gutting you from toe to ear."  
"I'm still dreaming about killing puppies!" Cody said, drawing attention back to him.  
"Next!" Yvonnokoff said, pushing Shratz into the chair opposite Cody.

"Big fat NADA!" Jall said, stepping down to his station as T'Parief lumbered behind him.  
"You found no clues as to Yvonnokoff's location?" Noonan asked.  
"No, I found no clue as to my sweatshirt's location," Jall huffed.  
"We found no transporter trace," T'Parief said, stepping back behind his console. "But we did find residual silicate matter from a mining planet in the Dekora system."  
"Wait a minute," Stafford said. "The Dekora system is operated by the..."  
"And I'd say that answers our questions about 'whodunnit,'" Noonan said. "Ensign Yanick, lay in a course for the Dekora system. Maximum warp." He looked to Stafford.  
The captain nodded. "Engage, Ensign. Good work, T'Parief."  
"That's my boy!" Yanick squealed, and T'Parief glowered at her.

Brill and Yvonnokoff grabbed both of Shratz' arms, dragging her off Cody as she screamed out a shrill, vibrating battle cry.  
"Your patients must luff you," Yvonnokoff said, breathless, as she pressed Shratz back against the wall.  
"The ones who survived do," Shratz spat, twisting away. "Forget it, fwarker! You're not worth the dulling of my blade!"  
"What's she on about?" Cody asked, shifting on the couch, straightening his shirt.  
"Aversion therapy," Dr. Brill said, and hopped into the chair opposite Cody. "Let me give this one a crack."  
"You're not going to try to kill me, are you?" Cody asked.  
"No, sir. Just some good old fashioned, down home, Tellarite wisdom."  
"Can I try to kill you?" he asked innocently.  
"No!"

"Entering Dekora system now," Yanick announced.  
"Drop us out of warp," Stafford said. "Scan for human lifesigns."  
"I've got two of them, Captain," Fifebee said. "Third planet in the system."  
"Take us there, Trish. Full impulse," Stafford said, and wheeled back around to face Fifebee. "What's on Dekora Three?"  
"An abandoned silicate mining operation that's been defunct for four years, sir," Fifebee replied. "At that time, the miners moved to the more silicate-rich Dekora Four."  
"What are silicates used for, anyway?" Stafford asked.  
"Meaningless plot device," Noonan said under his breath. "Move on, sir."  
"Right," Stafford said. "Establish a standard orbit once we get to the planet and form an away team."  
"Sir," Jall said, looking up from his panel. "I'm getting a holovision signal beaming out from Dekora Three."  
"Why are we just now picking it up?" Noonan asked.  
"Because it looks like it was calibrated so that Starfleet sensors wouldn't pick it up. But now that we're this close to the source, no way we couldn't pick it up."  
"Can you tap into it?"  
"Just give me a second," Jall said. "You shouldn't push me. I have authority issues."  
"That's it," Stafford said. "Nobody on this ship is seeing any counselor of any kind."  
"Incidentally, sir, we may have to abandon the use of our computer, as well, since you've alienated Sylvia," Noonan said.  
"We'll worry about that later. What do we use computers for around here, anyway?" Stafford quipped, and turned back to the viewscreen. "Got anything yet, Jall?"  
"Right now, Captain Needy."  
"Don't start..." Stafford warned, as the viewscreen lit up with the image of an oval room, furnished with several couches set up in a spiral pattern. Near one of those couches, a wizened Tellarite sat in a chair, pulling at his sparse hair.  
"I can't bring your dead parakeet back to life, Cody. That's as stupid as a sunburn on Breen Seven. But I can tell you that it's none too wise to get so bent out of shape about such a trivial matter. There's more to life than parakeets, boy. There's cockatoos, finches, and Elbrian diamondback lizard pigeons!"  
"None of those animals will be as loyal as Snoopy was."  
"Snoopy wasn't the bird," Noonan said from behind Stafford.  
"What?" Stafford asked.  
"Nothing."  
Stafford raised an eyebrow at Noonan, then turned to his other officers. "What are we looking at here?"  
"Counseling session," Yanick said.  
"Good job, my...little...humanoid," T'Parief said stiffly.  
"But no Vonna," Stafford said. "Is it possible they moved the conference?"  
"And left Yvonnokoff's runabout adrift?" Noonan asked.  
"Fair point," Stafford said, when his eyes went wide at a blur that rolled by on the viewscreen. "Wait! Pause, and repeat!"  
"Augment?" Jall asked.  
"Sure, you can augment it too, I suppose."  
Stafford and Noonan squinted at the screen as the blur rolled by in slow motion. Counselor Yvonnokoff could easily be seen being strangled by a wild-eyed Andorian.  
"Cripes sakes!" Stafford said. "Noonan, get down there, and take T'Parief and Jall with you. Fifebee, find out who originated that damn signal!"  
"On our way sir," Noonan said, nodding at T'Parief and Jall, and heading into the turbolift.

"You fight the Andorian, Brill. Let...me...counzel...a while," Yvonnokoff said hoarsely as she climbed onto the chair next to Cody, who stared at her quizzically as Brill faced off with Shratz. Meanwhile, Estellan stood in the corner, crying softly.  
"Are you going to try to convince me not to kill puppies?" Cody asked.  
"Not yet," Yvonnokoff said, crossing her legs and folding her hands over her knees. "Virst I vant to get to vhy it is you vant to kill puppies."  
"Really? Nobody ever seemed interested in the 'why' before."  
"Not zurprising. Eet can sometimes feel like thees is an uncarink world."  
"It DOES feel like that, at times!" Cody said.  
Brill and Shratz rolled by, still locked in combat. "Get off me you prickly varmint! You're slipperier than a Scaldavian eel bear!"  
"Ignore them," Yvonnkoff said. "Vocus on my eyes. I vant you to breathe deeply. Relax your muscles. And then, calmly, tell me vhy you vant to kill puppies."  
"You mean...I can trust you?"  
"You can trust me implicitly. You're safe here. No one's goink to hurt you..."  
"Whew," Cody said. "That's a relief. Anyways, I guess my yearning to kill puppies can be traced back to my..." ZAPPPPPPP!  
Phaser blasts slammed into Cody's chest and he fell backwards off the couch, out cold.  
Yvonnokoff whirled. "Vhat are you...? T'Parief!"  
"Stand down, Lieutenant," Noonan said, stepping up beside T'Parief as Jall skittered in behind them.  
"Hey, Doctor Y. Have you seen my sweatshirt?" Jall asked.  
"Nyet," Yvonnokoff said quickly, then turned to Noonan. "You vound me! How?"  
"Some detective work and a lot of luck," Noonan said. "Are you okay?"  
"Yes, but you didn't have to shoot my patient."  
"We thought he was your captor," T'Parief rumbled.  
"Although what we saw on Holovee would seem to contradict that," Jall said.  
"We were on Holovee?" Yvonnokoff asked.  
"I"m ruined!" Estellan moaned, and dropped to his knees.  
"Die, you folksy scum!" Shratz screeched, until T'Parief reached down with a claw and grabbed her by the back of her shirt, lifting her up into the air. He eyed her skeptically.  
"Stop that," he said.  
"You..." Shratz looked T'Parief up and down. "You're quite large."  
"I'm taken."  
Brill stood up and dusted himself off, glaring at Shratz. "So what's this all about."  
"You've all been part of some kind of elaborate ruse set up by..."  
"Krinok, Krinokom Communications Unlimited," a voice said, and everyone turned to see a hidden door in the wall slide open. A husky Klingon strolled through, surveying the scene with detachment. "Congratulations, Counselor Yvonnokoff. You win the contest."  
"Contest?" Yvonnokoff and Noonan asked at the same time.  
Krinok nodded. "Counsel or Die. Wednesday's this Fall on the United Krinok Network. Four counselors are pitted against each other in a race to save the mind of an insane person. The winner gets a five-year contract to have a major counseling show produced by Krinokom Communications." He walked over to Yvonnokoff and handed her a padd. "You got through to Cody, Counselor. Well done. When you were on air, our focus group feedback went through the roof."  
"That's nice," Yvonnokoff said. "But I've already got a job."  
"This one actually pays. You have complete creative control. You don't have to worry about the Silverado crew's petty problems. You just get to deal with the big issues. And your show gets beamed to trillion of households, galaxy-wide. That's a bigger circulation than anyone else in this room." He pulled a padd out of his jacket pocket and thrust it in front of Yvonnokoff. "Here is your contract, Counselor." He glowered. "Today is a good day to sign."  
Noonan and Jall shot a worried glance at Yvonnokoff, who simply shook her head.  
"Nyet. I zink not."  
"You understand this is an offer of the lifetime. One the Klingon Empire does not make lightly to humans."  
"She said no," Noonan said, stepping up to face Krinok. "And the Federation has a counteroffer. Don't ever do this again and we'll consider not sanctioning you for kidnapping our citizens!"  
"It was a harmless publicity stunt," Krinok said, turning around. "And I stand by my decision."  
"If we see this thing on the air, you can expect a call from the Federation Communications Commission."  
"Oh, do they have quantum torpedoes?" Krinok asked with a deep belly laugh.  
"Let's get out of here," Yvonnokoff said. "I vant a nice bath and to zleep in my own bed."  
"Weakling," Shratz spat, as T'Parief finally let her down.  
Krinok turned to the Andorian. "I like your style. You're a little violent, even for Klingon tastes. But you'll do as a pinch. How would you like a latinum-rich contract?"  
"If you don't mind me disemboweling you if you try to breach the contract," Shratz said.  
"Nonsense," Krinok said, patting the Andorian on the back as they walked toward the door Krinok had come in through. "Nothing like that would ever happen to me."  
"Let's get back to the ship," Noonan said, tapping his combadge. "Silverado, this is Noonan. Four to beam up."  
Once they disappeared, Brill and Estellan looked at each other.  
"What are we supposed to do?" Estellan asked, crawling to his feet and wiping the tears from his eyes.  
"I don't know," Brill said. "Figure they'll realize they forgot us, and beam us up in a few minutes."

TWO DAYS LATER. . .

"Do you get the feeling like we forgot something?" Stafford asked, sitting in the command chair on the bridge.  
"The feeling will pass," Noonan said.  
"Do you think Starfleet will get mad that we blew up Krinok's broadcasting tower in the Dekora system?"  
"They probably will be, but there's an entire galaxy that'll be grateful for it," Noonan said, tapping the final touches into his padd, finishing up his incident report to Stafford. "By the way, sir. Have you talked to Sylvia recently?"  
Stafford shifted in his chair. "No. Not as...such."  
"You really should. Decks Thirteen to Eighteen were without gravity today. She's been listless, quiet, and running only a few million computations per second since your..."  
"Spat?"  
"Argument."  
"I like spat better. I'll go have a talk to her. You know, man to mainframe."

"Sylvia?" Stafford asked as he stepped into the holodeck.  
The walls were blank, gold lattice on black background, as usual. Then, suddenly, Sylvia appeared right in front of Stafford, glaring at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed and teary.  
"What?"  
"I, uh, just wanted to say I'm sorry for, you know...whatever," Stafford said, looking down on his feet.  
"Well, when you put it like that," Sylvia said, folding her arms.  
"Did I really hurt your feelings?"  
"I'm a computer. I don't have feelings."  
"You're a computer with my mother's personality. I think you have at least a few."  
"Perhaps," Sylvia said. "But I'm not your mother, and it's important you remember that."  
"I'm starting to," Stafford said. "And I guess the reason I went off on you was because I felt like my mother was here counseling the crew. And you can see how that idea would be somewhat...offputting."  
"In my short time as acting ship's counselor, I realized that parental issues can be one of the leading causes of neuroses. You and your mother didn't have an easy time of it while you were growing up, did you?"  
"She did a fine job raising me. But yeah, there were some times I felt like she expected too much from me. Like I couldn't possibly be all she wanted me to be."  
"You seem like you have a lot to say on the subject," Sylvia said. "You should talk to the ship's counselor."  
Stafford smiled. "I'd rather talk to you. Would you mind conjuring us up a couch?"  
Sylvia's face broke into a smile. "I'd be delighted, Captain. Let's talk..."

"Velcome once again to our show," Counselor Yvonnokoff said, looking into the holorecorder, as she sat in a chair facing a surprisingly serene-looking Cody. "Today I'm goink to break with tradition a little bit and devote our show to my new friend Cody, who ees spending an extended leave of absence aboard the Silverado. It's our hope, after my time vit Cody is finished zat he vill be able to return to a healthy, fulfilling life. During our show, ve'll delve into Cody's psychosis and try to understand exactly vhy he feels ze vay he does."  
Yvonnokoff smiled at the camera a moment, allowing all that to sink in. Then she turned to Cody. "And Cody, my friend, how do you feel today?"  
"I feel like killing puppies," Cody said earnestly.  
"Okay. Let's talk about that. Let's zee vhy exactly you have this all-encompassing need to commit violence against pets..."

ELSEWHERE. . .

"Honey! You wouldn't believe who's on the holovision!"  
"Who?" Captain Andy Baxter asked, leaning into the bedroom, Steffie on his hip, giggling.  
"It's Cody!" Counselor Kelly Peterman said. "My very first pet sitter. I was wondering whatever happened to him!"  
"This a live broadcast?" Baxter asked, looking at the screen.  
"Pay-Per-Holoview," Peterman replied.  
"Is that something that can be traced back to us? Aren't we running for our lives from Starfleet search parties and Orion mercenaries?"  
"Well...yeah, but I like this show. This counselor is helping Cody work through his problems with violence against pets."  
Baxter glanced at her. "You didn't happen to cause any of these problems, did you?"  
Peterman looked away quickly. "Who knows. The human mind is a complex thing."  
"Yeah," Baxter said. "But...you are a counselor aren't you?"  
"Shush. The good part's coming up!"

End.


	8. Jigsaw Reunion

Author's Note: The planet Nisus appears in 'The IDIC Epidemic', a Star Trek novel by Jean Lorrah.

Copyright 2004

Star Traks: Silverado

2.8 "Jigsaw Reunion"

Ensign Trish Yanick could barely restrain herself from bouncing up and down in her seat like a little kid.  
Seated in the cockpit of the runabout Asessippi, Yanick was running the small craft through its pre-flight tests, preparing it for a lengthy trip and waiting for her boyfriend, Chief of Security T'Parief, to arrive. Looking out the window she could see the rather large form of the reptilian officer lumbering across the shuttlebay, suitcases hanging from his arms and claws with packages stacked higher than his head. Wobbling slightly, he continued towards the runabout.  
Finishing off the pre-flight check, Yanick ran back to the aft cabin of the runabout and started opening storage compartments, clearing space for the walking mountain of luggage approaching. Once she'd opened compartments beneath the seats, beneath the replicator, above the replicator, below the windows, under the table and next to the door, she realized that 5 minutes had passed and T'Parief still wasn't in the runabout.  
THUMP  
Yanick looked around, trying to find the source of the sound. Had part of the runabout fallen off? Had Silverado hit a bump? Maybe Silverado was under attack! The Captain would need her at the helm!

Standing outside the runabout hatch, T'Parief's arms were quickly getting tired. In addition to his own large suitcase, he was carrying what felt like every object in Trish's quarters. He hadn't taken into account though that the runabout hatch, unlike the doors on the ship, did not open automatically when somebody approached. (Otherwise any unfortunate person walking past the exit during a flight would find himself sucked out into space). With his hands full, he was unable to hit either the 'OPEN' plate or his comm-badge. Looking around quickly at the empty bay, he twisted his back end, slamming his tail against the side of the runabout. Sent off balance by the motion he wobbled, shifting his weight and fighting to remain on his feet.  
Just as T'Parief was recovering his balance, the runabout hatch snapped open and Trish Yanick ran out at full speed, tripping over T'Parief's outstretched tail, her hand barely snagging the strap of one suitcase as she tumbled over, dragging T'Parief and the entire mountain of luggage onto the floor.  
"Hi, honey," T'Parief grunted from beneath the pile of luggage.  
"Pari!" Yanick pulled herself to her feet, "What the heck are you doing?"  
"Being knocked off my feet, apparently," T'Parief grinned, ignoring the use of the extremely annoying nickname, pulling Yanick back down to the floor and giving her a quick kiss.  
"Oh, you tease!" Yanick giggled, kissing him right back, then jumping to her feat, "Let's get this stuff loaded! Ooohhh! I can hardly wait!"  
"It's not that big a deal," T'Parief muttered, grabbing two of the bags and following Yanick into the runabout, "It's been less than two years since I saw them last."  
"Two years is long enough!" Yanick declared, "I'm a firm believer that close family ties are key to our society!"  
"Your society, maybe," T'Parief muttered, "Mine's a little different!"  
"Which one?" Yanick asked.  
T'Parief was silent.  
"I just happen to know that Andorians have a very closely knit family structure. Well, as close as you can have with multiple parents anyway. And Klingons…geez…'The House of Whatever'! Sounds like a restaurant. But y'know, they're all worried about honor and stuff, and family, and all that. So don't try pulling any of that cultural stuff on me, cuz I know better!"  
"Gorn parents take no part in the raising of their spawn once they are finished teething," T'Parief said with a slight smirk.  
"That's only one out of three!" Yanick snapped.  
"Look, does it matter? We are going to visit them anyway. You get to meet my parents, brothers and cousins."  
Yanick was quiet for a minute.  
"No sisters?" she said finally.  
"No sisters."  
"Then who am I gonna girl-talk with!?"  
T'Parief rolled his eyes.  
"I'm sure you'll think of something," he said, moving closer to her.  
"I don't know," Yanick smiled, "I'll be awfully bored. How will I keep busy?"  
"I have some ideas," T'Parief bent to kiss her.  
"PUT ME DOWN YOU OVERGROWN FUR-BALL!"  
Popping her head out the hatch, Yanick could see Ensign Dar-ugal, the big, furry, headless security officer stalking towards the runabout, somebody thrown over his shoulder.  
"Darg! What are you doing?" T'Parief demanded.  
"I SAID PUT ME DOWN!" wailed Dar'ugal's passenger. Dar'ugal obediently let go, dropping San Jall to the deck in a heap.  
"What is HE doing here?" T'Parief snapped. Dar'ugal just gestured to Jall.  
"The Captain decided the hanger deck needed to be mopped, so he send the fuzz-ball down here," Jall snarled, "Anybody see a really big mop pail anywhere?"  
Dar'ugal stepped menacingly towards Jall.  
"OK, OK! Turns out there's some kind of Starfleet Operations convention on Nisus, so Stafford decided I should go!"  
"You're coming with us?" Yanick asked, perking up, "Yay! Girl-talk!"  
"No!" T'Parief snapped, "This is my vacation! I will not have this…this…THING with us!"  
"Hey, I'm not happy about this either!" Jall said, picking himself up off the deck. Dar'ugal handed him a bag, presumably his luggage, "But we don't have much of a choice now do we?"  
"We'll see!" T'Parief vowed as he hit his comm-badge, "T'Parief to Stafford-"  
"NO! Stafford out!"  
There was a click as the channel was cut.  
"T'Parief to Noonan-"  
"Sorry, Commander. Noonan out."  
Clenching his teeth, T'Parief turned and stepped into the runabout, Yanick and Jall following him.

"He's really not going to be happy about this," Stafford said with a smile as he, Jeffery and Noonan sat gathered in Unbalanced Equations, watching through the big windows as the runabout flew off into space.  
"Aye," Jeffery agreed, "I think it's safe to say that ye've pissed off a 7-foot tall, 300 pound lizard."  
"With teeth that could crush duranium," Noonan added.  
"And claws that could rip ye apart like a Christmas turkey," Jeffery finished.  
Stafford shrugged.  
"He's very obedient," he said, "It's one of the things that makes him such a great officer."  
"You are just pleased to be rid of Jall for two weeks." Noonan grinned.  
"Hell yeah! Aren't you?"  
"It is going to be very quiet here without him," Noonan admitted, "Or not," he amended, looking towards the lounge doors.  
"Hmmm?" Stafford turned to look, "Aw, crap."  
Dr. Noel Wowryk was striding towards them.  
"Hi honey," Jeffery smiled as she approached their table. She extended one slender hand, which Jeffery eagerly kissed.  
"Hello Simon," she said, taking a seat, "Please get me something to drink."  
"Ye got it!" Jeffery was off in a flash.  
"Don't you ever get tired of bossing him around?" Stafford asked.  
Wowryk shrugged.  
"You two order everybody on this ship around," she said, "I hardly think you're one to lecture me on the topic.  
Stafford and Noonan exchanged glances.  
"But we're nice about it!" Stafford finally objected.  
"Really?" Wowryk raised an eyebrow, "Shall we comm Mr. T'Parief and ask his opinion on the subject?"  
"Touche," Noonan conceded.  
"But c'mon," Stafford pressed, leaning over the table, "What possible reason could you have for ordering him around? How hard would it have been for you to grab your own drink on the way by?"  
"I don't need to discuss my private life with you, Captain," Noel sniffed.  
"Jeffery's my friend," Stafford returned, "And if you're going to treat him like dirt, it's my business! Isn't a relationship supposed to be built on love and respect?"  
"He loves and respects me,"  
Stafford gripped the table, a vein in his forehead throbbing slightly. His mouth opened twice, but no sound emerged.  
Sighing, Noonan interpreted.  
"It's supposed to work both ways," he said.  
Wowryk shrugged.  
"He seems perfectly happy with our relationship," she said.  
Further argument was halted as Jeffery returned, a hot cup of tea in one hand.  
"Is this Earl Grey?" Wowryk asked.  
"Aye," Jeffery replied.  
"Oh," Wowryk looked slightly downtrodden.  
"Oh!" Jeffery slapped his forehead, "Ah forgot! Tuesday is English Breakfast day! Ah'll be right back!"  
Wowryk shot Stafford a look of triumph as Jeffery ran back to the bar.

Personal Log, Ensign Trish Yanick:  
"Yippee! We're finally on out way! Two days of travel, 10 days on Nisus, two days back. I finally get to meet T'Parief's family! And even better, Jall could come along! Well, big old Pari isn't too happy about that, but it gives me somebody to talk to, and let's face it, Pari doesn't talk enough to keep up with me."

"So, what's so special about Nisus?" Jall asked, lounging in one of the rear cockpit seats.  
"Yeah," Yanick added, "You mentioned it, but you've never really told me anything about it. It is pretty?"  
"Nisus," T'Parief grunted, "Was colonized over two and a half centuries ago. It is a Class M planet with abundant flora and fauna. Most races find it to be a very beautiful place."  
Jall and Yanick were quiet for a moment.  
"AND?" Jall demanded.  
"Nisus is the greatest example of multi-cultural cooperation in the Federation," T'Parief went on, a slight edge in his voice, "It started as a Vulcan science colony and attracted contingents of Human and Andorian scientists. There are also Tellarite, Lemnorian, Bajoran, Bolian, Klingon, Horta and Gorn contingents on the planet.  
"Like Canada!" Yanick said happily.  
T'Parief and Jall looked at her.  
"I've never heard of that planet," T'Parief admitted.  
"Me neither," added Jall.  
Yanick crossed her arms.  
"Canada isn't a planet! It was a country on Earth!"  
Jall and T'Parief stared at her blankly.  
"We went there when we were thrown back in time!"  
"That was Toronto," Jall said, "Wasn't it?"  
"Toronto was IN Canada!" Yanick snapped, "Canada was a multicultural nation. People immigrated there from all over the world, living in relative harmony with one another!"  
"Oh, so you mean America," T'Parief nodded, "That I've heard of."  
"No," Yanick retorted, "I mean Canada! It was a bit like America. Only different."  
"What about the Canadians?" Jall asked, "What happened to them?"  
"Um, I don't know," Trish admitted, biting her lip.  
"Nisus is similar," T'Parief grunted, "It was a very successful experiment, and is a monument to all that the Federation stands for."  
"Aww," Jall said with a smile, "Somebody's proud of his home!"  
"Yeah," Yanick giggled, "Isn't it cute?"  
"I," T'Parief said flatly, "am not 'cute'."

As the conversation degenerated into pointless 'girl-talk'; discussion about clothing fashions, shoes and gossip about various crewmembers (rumor had it that Crewman Shwaluk was cheating on Nurse Kerry) T'Parief left the cockpit and ducked into the aft cabin.  
T'Parief hated traveling by runabout. For one thing, the low ceilings meant he constantly had to duck. Also, none of the chairs could accommodate his tail. He either had to squash it behind him, or lie on his stomach. Ignoring the too-small bunk, he stretched out on the floor.  
Any romantic ideas he'd had about the trip had been thrown completely out the window the minute Jall had been tossed into the shuttlebay. The bottles of massage oil in his bag, one for human skin, the other for Gorn scales, would likely remain unused.  
T'Parief sighed.  
His relationship with Trish Yanick was, on an emotional level, very satisfying. She was friendly, generous, enthusiastic, and energetic and had such a happy, outgoing personality that T'Parief couldn't help but fall in love with her. She was nice to Jall even! And yet…  
Well, he wasn't sure how he was going to explain her to his parents, for starters. How do you explain to a Gorn and a Klingon/Andorian hybrid that you're in love with a soft, weak human? There would be questions, comments and snide remarks. His brothers especially were likely to be obnoxious. Of course, he could always beat them into submission. The last time Glexnar had teased T'Parief on account of his size, T'Parief had broken both his legs. Neither of his parents said much; they considered it light roughhousing, but after he bit the head off another student's pet bird the school principal had wanted him to undergo 2 weeks of psychiatric assessment. His mother had just shrugged and said 'boys will be boys!' His father had said nothing, turning back to his news and tasting the air with his tongue.  
At least Jall would be too busy with his stupid conference to butt in. Strangely, the thought saddened T'Parief. Watching Jall being beaten to within an inch of his life by Glexnar and Padtute would have made his day.  
Families. Had to love them. No matter how messed up they were.  
T'Parief recalled the last family reunion he had attended. His Klingon grandparents had told stories and sang songs of glorious battle, his Andorian grand-hive had erupted into a massive fight, killing 3 hive members and destroying any chance of getting the damage deposit back. His Gorn grandparents hadn't bothered to show up.  
Growing up with such a range of cultural options, it was no wonder T'Parief found himself a bit confused from time to time.  
T'Parief's musings were interrupted by the hiss of the compartment hatch.  
"Comfy?" Trish asked with a grin.  
"Very," T'Parief replied, "although the floor would be better suited for a Klingon warrior if the carpet were removed."  
"You're not a Klingon," Yanick shrugged.  
"No," T'Parief sighed, "I'm not."  
Sensing his discomfort, Trish knelt down on the floor beside him.  
"Something wrong?" she asked.  
"Do you ever feel," T'Parief started, "that sometimes you've done something to give somebody a false impression?"  
"Not really," Yanick shrugged, "Do you?"  
"I-"  
"Did anybody think to pack some munchies?" Jall's voice intruded, "I'm starving."  
"We are trying to talk," T'Parief snapped.  
"Really? What about?"  
"None of your business!"  
"Pari," Trish sighed reprovingly, "Be nice!"  
"Be gone!" T'Parief directed this remark to Jall.  
"In a minute," Jall tapped at the replicator, ordering up a batch of Bajoran deviled grubs, "Want anything?"  
"You to leave. I believe the forward egress hatch is unlocked."  
"That's not nice!" Yanick objected, "T'Parief, Jall, we're going to be together for a few days on this trip! Play nicely!"  
"If you say so," Jall shrugged, carrying his bowl of grubs to the cockpit.  
"Was that really called for?" Trish turned to T'Parief.  
"I dislike him," T'Parief shrugged.  
"You could at least be civil,"  
"I don't want to be."  
"Well," Yanick huffed, getting her her feet, "When you change your mind, we'll be up front!" She stalked out, leaving T'Parief alone with his thoughts...again.

Stafford swung into Main Engineering as Alpha shift was drawing to a close. After the beating his ship had taken at Matria the entire engine room had undergone extensive repairs. Now every surface gleamed like new, light reflecting from the gently pulsating warp core stretching up both levels of the room and disappearing into the upper decks of the engineering section. Noticing a small smudge on one panel, Stafford bunched up a corner of his uniform tunic and wiped the panel clean.  
"Warp core ejection system initiated," Sylvia intoned, "Ejection in 30 seconds,"  
"Oh, crap!" Stafford cursed. He ran his eyes over the panel, hunting for a button labeled 'Cancel', 'Abort', 'Stop', ANYTHING! Finally locating a small red button with a promising label he pressed his thumb down on it.  
"Warp core ejection cancelled," Sylvia stated.  
"Let's just keep this to ourselves," Stafford muttered to the ceiling. He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard a soft chuckle.  
"Whatcha doin'?" Jeffery asked, swaggering into the compartment, Frit and Frek Naketh right behind him carrying a load of tools and components.  
Stepping carefully around Jeffery's midget-like engineers, Stafford followed Jeffery to his office.  
"Just spending a bit of alone time with my best gal," Stafford gulped.  
Jeffery looked at him.  
"Dude, ye need a girlfriend," he said with a grin.  
"Thanks," Stafford replied dryly, "I never would have figured that one out. Um, about that-"  
"Look at the time," Jeffery interrupted, "Shift's over! We finished installing the holo-emitters in Sickbay and Shuttlebay One today."  
"Great, can we-"  
"Ah'm heading off. See you later!"  
"Wait!" Stafford snapped, "What are you doing about Wowryk?!"  
"What about her?" Jeffery shrugged.  
"Well, nothing, if you don't mind BEING HER BITCH!"  
"Ah don't know what yer talking about," Jeffery looked away.  
"Oh come on! Just a few months ago, you were talking about dumping her lightly frosted ass, now you're bowing and scraping like she's the queen of the universe! Again!"  
"It's none of your business," Jeffery replied.  
"None of my business?" Stafford was speechless, "Simon, what's wrong with you? You told me everything about your last girlfriend! I could tell you her favorite colour, day of the week, clothing store, position-"  
"Noel is different!" Jeffery cut in, "She makes me feel…I don't know."  
"Like dirt?" Stafford ventured.  
"Like I'm doing something special," Jeffery replied.  
"WHY?" Stafford exploded, jumping out of his chair and stalking to the other side of the room, "Simon, she walks all over you! She says jump and you ask how high, facing what direction and whether you should use one foot or two! I have never in my life seen a woman treat a man like such crap. You need to stop this. Now!"  
"Oh yeah?" Jeffery shot back, "Or what?"  
"See? That's what I'm talking about!" Stafford spun around, stepping closer to Jeffery, "Fight back! Show her that you're a man, not a pet!"  
"And what if I don't?"  
"Then I hope you like cooking and cleaning. Cuz if you think this is gonna stop with bringing her drinks, you've got another think coming!"  
Stafford left.  
Jeffery sat quietly in his office for a moment.  
"He sounded very concerned," Sylvia spoke up.  
"Aye," Jeffery acknowledged.  
"I told you he was going to start acting like this."  
"Ye did."  
"Why don't you just tell him the truth?" A monitor on Jeffery's wall changed to display a giant, pulsating question mark.  
"Cuz the last thing Ah need is his pity, his help or his concern," Jeffery stated, rising from his chair and heading for the door.  
Jeffery nodded at Lieutenant Sage as the latter reported for his shift.  
"How's our best girl doing tonight?" Sage asked, tapping his code into the computer shift tracker.  
"She's doin' fine, nothing to report," Jeffery replied.  
Sage gave him a skeptical look.  
Chuckling, Jeffery handed him a padd with a long list of glitches and malfunctions.  
"Replicators on Deck 8, gravity fluctuations on Deck 25, temperature variations in the #4 RCS thruster," Sage frowned, "Display monitors in section 4 showing 'I Dream of Jeannie' reruns?"  
"Ah don't make them up, Ah'm just reportin' them," Jeffery called on his way out the door, "Don't let her give you any lip!"  
"Right," Sage watched as Jeffery strolled down the corridor, "Must be his boss calling," Sage muttered, "Ok, Sylvia, where do you want to start?"

Jeffery exited the turbolift and walked straight for Science Lab 4. One of the smaller labs, Lab 4 consisted of a central specimen column, reaching from floor to ceiling, surrounded by a ring of consoles. Closing and locking the door behind him, he turned to the consoles.  
"OK, Sylvia, fire her up,"  
"Stand by,"  
The small holo-emitter Jeffery had mounted in the lab ceiling came to life, projecting a figure in the central column. The figure was female in gender and Orion in race; her green skin shining in the light, her dark hair falling sensuously over her shoulders. Her biceps were solid, but still slender enough to retain their femininity. Her ruby red lips were parted ever so slightly, giving her face the appearance of a mild pout.  
"I really don't see why you need to go to all this trouble," Sylvia fussed, "The robo-trainer is perfectly adequate-"  
"Ah don't just want to get in shape, Sylvia," Jeffery called out, tapping on the console, "That's just not what Ah need."  
"You do remember that your last attempt at holo-engineering turned our science officer into a duck, right?"  
"No, Ah forgot," Jeffery replied, sarcasm dripping from every word, "Thank ye so much for reminding me!"  
"Perhaps you should get Lieutenant Fifebee to help you out," Sylia said thoughtfully, "I'm sure she has much expertise in holo-engineering."  
"Uh-huh," Jeffery muttered, "Like being a human makes me an expert in biology?"  
"Point taken. What exactly do you need this hologram for?"  
Jeffery paused.  
"Be all I can be," he muttered.

Yanick and Jall had crowded into the cockpit of the runabout Asessippi as it started its descent to the Nisus Colonial Spaceport. Two days locked in a runabout had had little impact on Yanick's attitude, she and Jall were still giggling about how much a nearby asteroid had looked like a pair of buttocks when the Asessippi dropped out of warp. T'Parief, on the other hand, was grumpy. Very, grumpy. How grumpy, you ask? Very grumpy. Who could be the cause of this grumpiness? Who, I ask you? WHO?  
"AAHHH!" T'Parief cried out in pain.  
"Oh, sorry," Jall apologized as he lifted his foot off T'Parief's tail, "Didn't see that there!"  
"Why you little-"  
"Nisus Control to incoming runabout," a crisp, male voice came over the comm, "Please state your identity and-."  
"-look, I said I was sorry!"  
"Claws in! Claws in!" Yanick cried, "Don't hurt him!"  
"I'll do more than hurt him!"  
"NISUS CONTROL TO INCOMING RUNABOU!" the male voice snapped, "Stop fighting and come to 124 mark3!"  
"Huh?"  
Yanick dove to the helm console to make the course adjustment, narrowly avoiding a large mountain that had appeared in their way.

After dodging the scenery, Yanick guided the runabout to the assigned landing pad, shutting down the engines and putting everything into 'standby' mode.  
Stepping out of the airlock, T'Parief took a deep breath of the fresh, Nisus air. Slightly damp, but in a clean and pleasant way. Kinda like the fresh air after a good rainfall. North of the spaceport the buildings of the city formed an impressive skyline, nestled in and beyond a broad valley. A few miles up the valley a broad dam held back a sparkling blue lake, a small river running from a spillway and winding through the city.  
There was just something about the air of his home planet. T'Parief had to fight his Gorn instincts to flick out his tongue, settling instead for another deep breath through the scent receptors inherited from his mammalian parents.  
"What kind of idiot puts a city right underneath a dam?"  
T'Parief brew out his deeply held breath in a loud snort of contempt.  
"It says here," Yanick piped in, "That 100 years ago there was a major flood. Ice got lodged upstream in the mountains, blocking off the river. When the ice dam let go, the dam down here couldn't hold back the water and the city was flooded. Right in the middle of a plague." Yanick had pulled up several documents on the planet Nisus and had downloaded them into her padd.  
"Idiots," Jall muttered again.  
"Mr. Jall," T'Parief said carefully, working hard to hold his temper, "As we have now arrived, I suggest you proceed to your conference. I do believe accommodations have been arranged for you at the Starfleet Hospitality Center."  
"Aww," Yanick pouted, "Y'know, maybe he could-"  
"No. He would die at my place,"  
"And I'm against that!" Jall piped in, "Gimmi a shout later," he gave Yanick a quick hug then departed, chasing after a passing hover-taxi.  
"You didn't have to be so rude…again!" Yanick complained.  
"We already have to deal with my family. Do we really need more distractions around?" he replied to her, feeling better the further away Jall's figure receded.  
"Well, when you put it that way…" Yanick flicked her eyes back to the runabout, "Think your parents can wait for another hour?"  
T'Parief was already keying open the hatch.

Finally, after chasing after it halfway to the edge of the spaceport, the hover-taxi slowed.  
"Thanks," Jall snapped at the auto-pilot, jumping in the front seat, "Starfleet Hospitality Center, and make it snappy."  
"Y'know, since I'm being nice enough to share my cab, you could check with me before ordering it around."  
"Huh?" Jall twisted around to look behind him, where a bearded man in a Starfleet Operations uniform sat sprawled across the back seat, "Sorry."  
"Doesn't matter, I'm going there anyway," Reaching forward, he offered Jall his hand, "Craig Porter, Starbase Waystation."  
"San Jall. U.S.S Silver-"  
"Silverado," Porter chuckled, "What a surprise. Seems like we're running into you people everywhere."  
"Hey, we only visited your station twice," Jall objected, "Actually, Starfleet sent us there twice."  
"Relax, buddy, I'm bugging you," Porter chuckled, "So, you're here for the conference?"  
"Yeah. I guess my Captain figures I might learn something."  
People usually fell into three categories in Jall's world: People That Annoy Me, People I Like To Annoy, and People I Don't Care About. T'Parief was a Person I Like To Annoy. Yanick was an exception, fitting into none of the above and as such deserving of what was, in Jall's mind, special treatment, although his idea of special treatment matched most being's ideas of common courtesy. It was people like her who actually saw that underneath his sarcastic exterior, Jall was really a very intelligent guy. Porter didn't really have a place in Jall's mind yet, leaving Jall to stick with a simple, polite response rather than coming up with a witty comeback. Whether Porter should have felt honored for the good treatment or insulted by fact that Jall didn't consider him worth the effort of a good insult was the only question.  
"Likewise," Porter replied, not realizing just how unusually pain-free his interaction with the Silverado officer had been.  
The hover-cab pulled up to the Starfleet Hospitality Center. The two men checked in and parted ways, Porter heading for the south wing of the building, Jall for a suite in the east wing.

Yanick and T'Parief had taken a high-speed slidewalk from the spaceport to the core of the capitol city of Nisus. T'Parief's family lived at the very edge of downtown, where towering skyscrapers gave way to the smaller but still palatial homes of the 'wealthy'. Currency in the Federation might be dead (or nearly so) but possession was still a factor. One could not simply own a huge home in a city, one had to obtain it, the most common method being inheritance. T'Parief's Andorian ancestors had lived on Nisus since the colony had been founded and had obtained property near the city core. The old home had been demolished and a new one designed, T'Parief had explained on the trip in from the spaceport.  
"Wow," Yanick said happily as they disembarked from the tram, "It's pretty!"  
Pretty was as good a word as any. Nisus was a very ecologically friendly city. Trees grew in profusion along the sidewalks and small open spaces could be seen dotting the street. Looking up at an immense tower, Yanick could see no fewer than 5 public terraces jutting from the building's sides, greenery overflowing from each one. The multicultural spirit of Nisus was clearly visible in its architecture: Some buildings were topped by sharp spires that could be either Terran Gothic or Andorian Conservative, while others had soft, ovoid shapes reminiscent of Bolarus. T'Parief pointed out the Klingon Cultural Center, with its predictably sharp corners and triangular shapes, as well as the Tellarite Embassy, resembling nothing more than a stack of children's blocks. The only common element was the inclusion of large outdoor terraces or patios, along with flora native to whatever homeworld the building came from.  
It was a little odd seeing Klingon architecture sitting right next a bright green park rather than a desolate wasteland.  
"This is such an awesome place!" Yanick exclaimed, "I've always wanted to try gagh! Could I get some gagh?" Gagh was a Klingon dish; live worms in blood sauce.  
"Uh, if you really want to," T'Parief shrugged, "But you don't have to do it to impress-"  
"There's a place!" she latched onto his arm and led him to 'Granthar's Gaghorium'. Looking up at the menu choices, she frowned.  
"I didn't think Klingons put ketchup on their food," she commented.  
"ARE YOU QUESTIONING MY CUISINE?" snarled the burly Klingon behind the counter, presumably Granthar.  
"Um, no," Yanick squeaked, "Uh, two plates of your Heavenly Gagh with Gravy,"  
Glaring at her, Granthar started preparing their meals.  
"Most of the merchants here try to cater to a broad range of species," T'Parief murmured softly, "It would be wise to appreciate the gesture,"  
"I didn't mean it in a bad way!" Yanick whispered back, "It's great that-"  
"Your food," Granthar snapped, slamming two iron plates of steaming, crawling worms on the counter, "Do you plan to eat like a warrior, or would you prefer a knife and fork?"  
T'Parief felt his heckles rise.  
"Are you implying that I am not a warrior?" he snarled.  
"Oh, I am so sorry," Granthar bowed, "I did not mean to hurt your delicate feelings!"  
"P'TACK!" T'Parief snarled, punching Granthar across the face. Recovering quickly, Granthar leapt over the counter, knocking T'Parief to the floor. The two wrestled around while Trish looked on in confusion. Granthar punched T'Parief in the face twice. Roaring in rage, the larger reptile flipped Granthar over his head, slamming him to the floor. Both jumped to their feet, eying each other warily. T'Parief made the first move, delivering a kick aimed at Granthar's knees. Granthar blocked the blow, sending T'Parief stumbling off balance and onto the floor. Granthar was on him in an instant, his ceremonial blade at T'Parief's throat. Trish screamed, but T'Parief merely nodded. Smiling, Granthar jumped off and pulled the officer to his feet.  
"Let me add a pint of blood wine," he laughed, "on the house!"  
As he left, Yanick turned to her slightly bruised boyfriend.  
"What the hell was that?"  
"He…challenged me…" T'Parief forced out between gasps, "I lost."  
"But he's giving you free booze?"  
"It's all good natured," T'Parief replied, wincing as he sat back down, "Just the way Klingons do things,"  
"I see," Yanick shrugged as Granthar set the blood wine in front of T'Parief and a cup of coffee in front of Yanick. Grabbing him by the ears, she slammed Granthar's face into the plate of gagh.

"I don't know what he got so upset about," Yanick complained as she and T'Parief walked down the street, gagh hanging from them, "I was just trying to join in! I didn't think he was going to throw us out!"  
"Slamming somebody's face into food isn't a challenge," T'Parief sighed, "It's an insult."  
"Oopsies,"  
"Indeed."  
Sitting on a bench to rest for a moment, Trish took a look at the other pedestrians walking the street. Slowly, it began to dawn on her that something was subtly…different…about most of the people.  
"Pari," she spoke up, "I don't recognize most of these races! What are these people?"  
T'Parief chuckled.  
"That," he pointed at a mostly human looking man. His hair was very fine, almost like fur, and jet black. His skin had a greenish tinge, like he'd ridden the roller-coaster just a few times too many, "Is a Human/Orion cross."  
"Really?" Yanick looked again, "Wow!"  
"And he," T'Parief pointed at another male, this one with short brown fur and pointed ears, "is a cross between a Tellarite and a Vulcan. Or possibly a Romulan," he amended, "That blue guy with the fangs is part Nausican and part Bolian, and she, " T'Parief frowned as he eyed an orange woman with insectoid eyes, drooping ears and spikes protruding from her back, "I have no idea what she is."  
"And her?" Trish asked, pointed at a green, leafy-looking thing.  
"That's a bush, honey."  
"Oh."

"You told me it was big," Yanick said, "But you didn't say it was HUGE!"  
'It' was the home of T'Parief's parents. What were you thinking? Pervert!  
Primary built from blocks of granite with heavy bands of metal framing it, the house was as much a blend of cultures as T'Parief was. Gorn and Andorians loved using stone and metal in their constructions, while the sharp angles of the roof fit better with Klingon standards.  
Walking up to the heavy doors, T'Parief lifted a huge knocker, letting it drop with a bone-rattling THUMP.  
After a moment, the door started to creak slowly open. It took nearly 10 seconds for the huge door, half a meter thick, to swing back on it's hinges, revealing a tall, grim faced woman.  
That her ancestry was mixed was obvious even to Yanick. Her skin was a grayish hue, Klingon cranial ridges dominating her forehead, but disappearing under a mop of steel grey hair. Two stunted antennae could be seen, twisting slowly. Her manner was regal as she stepped towards T'Parief.  
"My son," she said.  
"Mother," T'Parief bowed his head. Yanick, remembering her encounter at Granthar's, stood back from the scene and didn't get involved.  
T'Parief's mother walked slowly down the steps to where her son waited, his Starfleet duffel bag in hand. Winding up, she punched him hard across the jaw.  
"Dishonorable filth!" she screamed.  
"Yes, Mother," T'Parief replied. Yanick frowned.  
"Crawling into Starfleet like some cowardly human!"  
"Yes, Mother."  
"Hey!" Yanick objected, protocol forgotten, "Who do you think you-"  
"Stay out of this, off-worlder!" T'Parief's mother snapped. Yanick took a step back, fighting tears.  
"You bring this Human into our home! You defy the wishes of your Klingon grandparents and reject your Klingon heritage! You defy your Andorian hive-parents by rejecting your Andorian heritage!"  
"Yes, Mother," T'Parief repeated.  
She crossed her arms, her stony façade cracking as one corner of her mouth twitched upward.  
"And good for you, I say!"  
T'Parief chuckled softly.  
"Well, now that that bulls**t is out of the way," his mother's face broke into a full smile as she spoke, "Welcome home, my son!"  
"Mother, I introduce to you Ensign Trish Yanick," T'Parief intoned, "Trish, this is-"  
"Klexish," Klexish cut in, "And can the formalities, Pari, I've had quite enough of that already!"  
Yanick giggled.  
"You call him 'Pari' too?" she asked.  
"I've called him that since he was 5 years old," Klexish smiled, "It drives him up the wall!"  
"I know!" Trish replied, the two women laughing together as 'Pari' looked on.  
Taking Yanick by the arm, Klexish guided her gently into the house.  
"You've really got to go see 'Kiss me, Turtlehead' while you're in town," she declared when Trish asked what there was to do on Nisus, "The Nisus Guild of Actors has been giving it rave reviews! Sekmon and Ethor call it 'Best Klingon/Terran romance ever written'."  
"Sounds like fun," Yanick replied.  
"I'll have tickets sent over,"  
"Oh, you don't have to go to any trouble-"  
"Nonsense," Klexish waved the comment away, "You're the first girl Pari's ever brought home. I intend to see to it that you both have a good time!"  
"The first?" Yanick looked back at T'Parief.  
"I did not have time to date," he grumbled.  
"That's his story," Klexish said, smiling at Yanick, "I think the girls were just too afraid of him. A pity too; such a handsome young man-"  
"Mother-" T'Parief groaned.  
"Well you are! Maybe if you'd spent a little less time at the gym, and martial arts classes, and with the Starfleet Scouts you would have actually had time to meet a nice girl!" Klexish smiled at Yanick, "Although I suppose he has you, so everything worked out in the end! When can I be expecting grandchildren?"  
Yanick and T'Parief exchanged uneasy glances.  
"We haven't exactly figured that part out yet," T'Parief said quietly.  
"Oh, I understand," Klexish said, "It took almost 5 years for the geneticists here to figure out to help your father and I have a child. But that was still 5 years of incredible sex in the meantime," she added wistfully.  
"We haven't really figured that part out yet, either," Yanick said uneasily. T'Parief groaned. There was a sudden beeping from another room.  
"Be right back!" Klexish moved swiftly towards the source of the noise.  
"I sure like her," Yanick said softly, "I don't know what you were so worried-"  
"You are home,"  
Yanick and T'Parief turned to the source of the voice: A Gorn male had stepped softly into the foyer. His scales were a full deep green rather than the greenish-brown of T'Parief's. His lizard snout was far more pronounced, a slender tongue snapping out occasionally to taste the air. His stature was impressive, but he wasn't as muscular as his son. In true Gorn style, he wore a simple sleeveless leather tunic and pants.  
"Father," T'Parief shifted uneasily.  
"Spawn," the Gorn nodded.  
"Trish, this is Slezar," T'Parief stated formally, "Father, this is-"  
"I heard," Slezar, turning away from Yanick as though dismissing her from his attention, "How many of your enemies have you slaughtered?"  
T'Parief snorted. Even Yanick, with her blond outlook on life, could sense that T'Parief had gone through this routine with his father several times.  
"3 Matrian soldiers, 4 Matrian starships-"  
"Details, please," Slezar cut him off.  
"I electrocuted two Matrian soldiers and crushed a third's head against the deck…"  
Yanick's stomach turned as T'Parief recalled every death he'd caused as Silverado's Tactical Officer, from the Matrians to the Hometians right up to fatalities on the Orion ship that had attacked them a few months earlier.  
When T'Parief finished, Slezar waited expectantly. Klixish re-entered the room, but moved to stand silently next to Yanick.  
"That is it?" he finally said, "You have not killed more?"  
T'Parief was silent.  
"Um, he killed half a dozen of my fish, and squashed a crewmate's hamster," Yanick said, her voice shaking.  
"Pets are irrelevant," Slezar waved the comment away.  
"He ate your fish?" Klixish whispered to Yanick, "Thought they were appetizers, huh?"  
"Yup," Yanick whispered back.  
Klixish laughed quietly to herself.  
"I suppose in an organization as weak-stomached as Starfleet I cannot expect a proper death count," Slezar was saying, shaking his head, "Mark your kills."  
"But Father," T'Parief objected, "I am-"  
"You are never too old to track your kills!" Slezar snarled, "NOW MARK THEM!"  
T'Parief walked over to a large screen, probably used to entertain anybody waiting in the foyer. As he tapped at the panel, three columns appeared. Each had a name at the top: T'Parief, Glexnar and Padtute. In each column was an array of symbols that looked they'd come from a cave painting. Humanoids, canines, birds, large animals and even starships, all done in the same stick-figure style. As T'Parief tapped away, several new humanoid icons appeared under his name, along with several ships. Yanick could see that T'Parief's tally was much larger than either of his brothers, but it didn't look like their father really cared about that.  
"I expect better when you next return," T'Parief's father said curtly. T'Parief only nodded.  
With a nod to his wife, Slezar left the room.  
"It's getting late," Klixish said uneasily, "Let me show you to your rooms."

San Jall was awakened by the chirp of his door chime.  
"Lieutenant Jall!" cried Lieutenant Commander Porter, "Wake up!"  
Deciding that Porter was definitely taking a step towards the People I Don't Like category, Jall climbed out of bed and padded to the door.  
"What the f**k do you want?" he growled drowsily. Porter was already fully dressed, showered, groomed and holding two cups of coffee in his outstretched hands.  
Frowning at Jall's tiger stripe shorts, Porter handed him one cup of coffee.  
"You're going to be late for the first session," Porter advised him, "You might want to hurry up."  
"Right, right" Jall mumbled, chugging the coffee and walking into the bathroom. He stepped back out shortly after, showered and reasonably groomed, the caffeine having woken him up.  
"Lead on," Jall gestured.  
They left the Starfleet Hospitality Center and turned towards the Nisus Convention Center. To his surprise, Jall found Porter to be a surprisingly interesting person to talk to; they compared their jobs, how the Operations department on Waystation compared to its counterpart on Silverado and how running a large space station compared to a medium-large starship.  
As they entered the center, a figure caught Jall's eye; short, dark hair, dark complexion and pushing a laundry cart.  
"Something wrong?" Porter asked.  
"No, I just thought I saw somebody familiar," Jall replied.

After making their way to the auditorium, which was awash in officers bearing the telltale yellow of Operations, Porter and Jall found themselves waiting.  
And waiting.  
And waiting.  
"And here you were worried about being late," Jall remarked.  
Porter shrugged.  
"I have," he said, "on very rare occasion, been known to make mistakes.  
Finally, an officer wearing command red took the podium and gestured for everybody's attention.  
"I apologize for the delay," he started, "but an unfortunate event has only recently come to my attention, and will, I'm afraid, have a definite damper on this convention."  
"Last night, Ensign Poleck and Lieutenant Brisbane were abducted from their quarters at approximately 02:00h. Both men were severely beaten. Ensign Poleck, sadly, has succumbed to his injuries. Until we have identified the culprit, this conference is on hold. Return to your rooms and be on alert. Thank you."  
As the crowd broke out in questions and confusion, Porter turned to Jall.  
"Looks like you got out of bed for nothing," he said.  
"I wouldn't be so sure," Jall frowned.

"I can't help you," the half Tellarite, half Klingon officer on the screen stated.  
"Look, I want to help you!" Jall snapped, "All I need is some information!"  
"All information on the incident has been sent to the proper authorities; they will handle it."  
The line was cut off.  
"Maybe you should call your Security Chief friend," Porter advised.  
"Naw," Jall grumbled, "I don't think he's going to be much help. Forget it, he's right, it's their job, not mine. Wanna grab a drink?"  
"It's pretty early for drinking, isn't it?"  
"Somebody just died. It's our duty to get drunk."  
"Good point."

"So what was the most terrifying situation you've been in?" Jall asked, sipping on some fruit-filled syntheholic concoction. The two had found a lounge near the convention center, the terrace of the lounge patio looking over the river.  
Porter thought for a moment.  
"That's hard to answer," he said finally, "I mean, there was this time an insane Admiral locked us all up in a subspace bubble, we've had mind controlling aliens try to attack the station, and I'll forget the time I discovered the Happy Universe."  
"You discovered a happy universe?" Jall asked, "What's so wrong with that?"  
Porter shuddered.  
"You don't want to know," he said ominously, "What about you?"  
"The first time I was trapped in Dr. Wowryk's dream-reality," Jall replied without hesitation, "Those bitches killed me 13 times!"  
"Nasty!" Porter chuckled.  
"Oh yeah!" Jall replied, sipping his drink, "I was incinerated, electrocuted, decapitated, eviscerated-"  
"Stop!" Porter cried, "Enough!"  
Jall chuckled.  
"So tell me," he said, "What's so bad about a Happy Universe."  
Porter shuddered again.  
"Imagine," he said, looking down at the river, "That you're happy. REALLY happy. But you don't really want to be happy. You're just happy because somebody used a bizarre energy beam on your brain that makes you THINK you want to be happy."  
"I'm confused," Jall admitted.  
"It's a parallel universe," Porter explained, "One where Captain Rydell wasn't captain of the Secondprize. Without him this alien race tried to use a brain-altering ray on the Federation to make us all their friends. But the Secondprize's Counselor, Claire Webber, got her hands on the beam and used it to make the entire Federation happy. She declared herself Empress, created the United Federation of Fun and plunged that universe into total chaos."  
"Crazy women," Jall muttered. Realization dawned on him, "That's why you Waystation people freak out at the sight of a smiley face!"  
"Huh?"  
"Remember?" Jall leaned over the table, "It was about a year ago. We stopped off at Waystation right before a lunatic Klingon bombed the place! Her ship-"  
"-had a happy face painted on the front," Porter finished with a grim smile, "Yup, I remember now. And yeah, we thought the ship was from-"  
"The Happyverse," Jall finished for him.  
"Right. Can we talk about something a little less depressing now?"

Yanick knocked on T'Parief's door, her small fists barely making any sound on the thick wood.  
A moment later, the door creaked open.  
"Yes?" T'Parief asked.  
"Hi hon," Yanick smiled, "How ya doin?"  
"Obviously not as well as you are," T'Parief grumbled.  
"Oh, your mother and I just went for a walk," Yanick went on, pushing her way into T'Parief's room. The bed was huge, predictably, and was cleverly constructed with one side of the bed having a slot for T'Parief's tail; he could sleep on his back with his tail in the slot, or roll over to the other side and sleep on his stomach. Posters of Gorn punk bands were affixed to the walls, and a model of an Excelsior class starship sat on the desk. Judging from the uneven paint job and the fact that one nacelle was crooked, T'Parief had likely built the model himself.  
"I'm pleased you are getting along with my Mother," T'Parief stated.  
"Ohh," Yanick whined, "Stop being so formal! Relax! Take that 6 foot pole out of your-"  
"PARI!" hollered Klixish, "YOUR BROTHERS ARE HERE! COME DOWN AT ONCE!"  
"Oh, goody!" Yanick said happily, "Are your brothers as handsome as you are?"  
"I wouldn't know," T'Parief grumbled.  
"Don't be such a poo," Yanick said, giving him a nudge, "Your mom's great, I'm sure your brothers are nice too!"  
"My father-"  
"Was cold hearted as I've ever seen. But hey, my family tried to shoot you. Nobody's perfect."

T'Parief's brothers, in Yanick's opinion, were definitely NOT as handsome as T'Parief.  
Sure, a 7 foot tall lizard won't win any beauty contests, but his features had a certain…she didn't know what. The smooth scales weren't that much different from skin, just dryer and harder. His snout, while not exactly human, was still smooth and sleek, and the red eyes, well, he closed them when they were kissing anyway. And his body more than made up for any oddities it may contain, although they hadn't really figured out how they were going to..well, never mind.  
His brothers on the other hand, were ugly. Very ugly.  
T'Parief obviously took after his father. The other two took after their mother, with frightening results.  
Their skin was a disturbing grayish green, something like the colour of mold. They had a more Klingon face, with more pronounced cranial ridges and no snouts, but their teeth were too large for their faces, their eyes a burnt orange. Klixish made the introductions.  
"Nice to meet you," Yanick smiled, putting her best foot forward.  
"Nice tits," commented Glexar.  
T'Parief said nothing, his arm simply flew out, slamming into the side of this brother's head and sending him sprawling to the floor.  
"Nice shot," chuckled Klixish.

T'Parief spent the rest of the day showing Yanick around Nisus; the shopping district, where a fair amount of latinum was spent, his favorite park up along the valley wall and looking down on the Klingon Embassy and the IDIC Memorial. He finished off the evening with dinner at Antoneese's Italian/Lemnorian Family Restaurant. After she finished stuffing her face with grelengor alfredo, he took her for a walk along the river.  
His actions had been perfect, she couldn't deny that, but his mood was even darker than usual. It didn't really take a genius to figure out why, but Yanick was determined to make him feel better.  
"I'm so glad I came with you," she purred.  
"You are welcome."  
Silence again.  
"Ohh! That's IT!" Yanick snapped, "Your dad sucks, but that's no reason for you to be in such a grumpy mood! Who cares what that old crank thinks?"  
"I do," T'Parief admitted.  
"Care about this," Yanick jumped up and kissed him hard on the mouth. T'Parief stumbled back onto the grass, Yanick landing on his chest and knocking his wind out. He quickly recovered and kissed her back.  
Just as their passion was about to escalate to higher levels again, T'Parief froze.  
Yanick tried in vain to keep him going, but as usual, failed. It happened every time; they would kiss, they would cuddle, but anytime she tried to do anything else, T'Parief froze like a deer in headlights. He had actually surprised her by explaining the problem to her: with three different sets of mating instincts running around in his head (or other parts) his body just locked up, like a computer stuck in a loop. Wowryk would be thrilled to hear about such a condition, but Yanick wasn't going to give her the pleasure. And, for the moment, T'Parief wouldn't be giving Yanick much pleasure either. At least the kissing and cuddling was fun.  
T'Parief sat up, looking around for a moment.  
"Where am I?" he asked.  
"Up s**t creek without a paddle," Yanick sighed.

The next morning, Jall and Porter were in the Hospitality Center cafeteria, watching pedestrians go by out the large windows. Both were bored out of their minds. With the postponement of the conference, there was little to do. Starfleet Security was keeping an eye on all the conference participants, but so far they hadn't dragged anybody in for interrogations. That alone hinted to Jall that they knew more about the attack then they were willing to share with him. And why should they? Security wasn't his job.  
"She's got a nice rack," Porter said dully, pointed out a passing Andorian.  
"Blue skin just doesn't do it for me," Jall replied dryly.  
"Don't knock it till you try it," Porter replied back.  
"We should do…something," Jall said said, "I'm stuck here until Trish and her dear 'Pari' are finished with their wonderful romantic vacation, and you're-"  
"Stuck until the Wayward picks me up," Porter finished, "Do you think security would mind if we left the center?'  
"Do you care?"  
"Hmm," Porter sipped his tea, "I could sit here and die of complete boredom, or I could go out and see a new planet while pissing off some overgrown gorilla."  
"What do ya wanna do?" Jall asked.  
"I dunno. What do you wanna do?"  
"I dunno."  
Both men looked at each other for a moment, then sighed.  
"That Orion out there has to be at least a D-cup," Jall nodded towards the window.  
"Oh yeah," Porter smiled, "Sweet!"

Stafford sat in his ready room, twiddling his thumbs. At least, he'd like to be.  
Actually, he was partway through building a model of Silverado, but he'd just smeared glue all over his fingers and glued them firmly to a plastic warp nacelle. Every captain Stafford had ever met or served with had a model of a ship in his or her office. Captain Beck had had some Excelsior-class ship sitting in hers, his old captain on the Exeter had a model of a Miranda-class ship. Most captains just replicated models, resulting in perfect, well, replicas, right down to the last hull plate. Stafford had, in a fit of insanity, decided he'd rather assemble his himself.  
"It's sweet that you're going to all this trouble," Sylvia said cautiously, "But shouldn't I ask Dr. Wowryk to come up here?"  
"No," Stafford said firmly, "She'd enjoy this far too much."  
'What are you going to do? Sit around until your weak human skin exfoliates and sheds the glue?"  
"If necessary."  
BE-DEEP!  
"Who is it?"  
Silence.  
"Sylvia?"  
"Oh, I'm sorry," replied the computer, "I thought you were asking Jeffery. Who is, by the way, on the other side of the door."  
"I'm not here," Stafford said quickly.  
"Too late, I told him you were here 90 seconds ago."  
"S**t", Stafford hid his hands below the level of his desk, "Come,"  
"Captain, Ah want some time off." Jeffery said without preamble.  
Stafford squirmed, trying to separate his fingers.  
"What? Why?"  
"Ah've been puttin' in lots of overtime lately," Jeffery said, "Ah need some time for me. Just a couple of days.  
"Does this have something to do with Noel?" Stafford asked, wincing in pain from his fingers, which had somehow gotten stuck to a patch of wet glue on his armrest "Is she going to up here next? I'm running out of senior staff!"  
"Nay," Jeffery swallowed, "She doesn't know about it."  
"Finally getting a backbone?"  
"Can Ah have the time off or what?" Jeffery frowned, "And what are ye doing under there?"  
"Nothing!" Stafford pulled his hand off the armrest, eyes tearing from the pain, "Ok, Fine! Take some time off. You deserve it, I guess. Now go away."  
"Didn't think ye'd be so sad about it," Jeffery shrugged, "And ye know, if you're going to do that kind of thing, ye should go back to your quarters first." He walked out the door.  
Stafford gave a sigh of frustration as he rested his forehead on the glue-splattered desk.  
"Aw, f**k!"

THUMP! THUMP!  
"Glexar! Get the door!" snarled Klixish.  
Obediently enough, Glexar left the large living room, where the family had gathered to watch 'Win Or Else!', Krinokor's #1 game show. Klexish was seated in a large wing-backed chair while T'Parief and Yanick cuddled on the love seat. Padtute was out on a date, although who could date somebody who looked like a walking pile of mold with teeth was beyond Yanick.  
Glexar heaved, straining to pull the massive door open, then stepping around it.  
"Hi," Jall said politely, "we're looking for-OH MY GOD!"  
"Uuggghhhh…." Porter sounded like his lunch was ready to make a repeat appearance.  
"Do you have a problem?" the hideous figure, AKA Glaxar, snapped.  
"Um, no," Jall said, shaking his head, "No problem at all!"  
"What do you want?" demanded Glexar.  
"Um, looking for T'Parief and Yanick?" Jall asked.  
"Follow me," Glexar grunted.

"Mom, we've got more Starfleeters here to make pains of themselves."  
"Oh no," T'Parief groaned as Jall and Porter were led into the room.  
"Who's you friend?" Yanick asked, winking at Jall.  
"This is Craig Porter, from Waystation," Jall said, "And he's not that kind of 'friend'!"  
"Huh?" Craig frowned.  
"Nothing."  
"Oh," Yanick looked slightly disappointed, "Oh well! This is Pari, um T'Parief, and his mother…"  
Yanick went on, doing all the introductions as T'Parief's family, or at least the two members who were present, nodded back politely.  
"So this is the young man you've told me so much about," Klexish said, walking over to Jall, "The filthy scum-bag. Has no respect for anybody. Insulting, argumentative, arrogant-"  
"Nice to know you cared enough to mention me," Jall cracked.  
"Pleasure to meet you," Klexish smiled.  
"Thanks," Jall shook her hand, "Um, could you tell me where the can is?"  
"Hmmm?"  
"Washroom," Porter elaborated.  
"Down the hall, second door on the right," Klexish pointed. Jall left as Porter uneasily shifted his weight.  
"So how come you guys are over here?" Yanick asked.  
"Yes," T'Parief growled, "Why?"  
"Two officers were beaten, so they cancelled the conference," Porter explained the situation with the officer that had died.  
Both T'Parief and his mother frowned.  
"That's unheard of on Nisus," they said together.

Jall walked down the hall, admiring the oversized architecture of the place. He easily found the washroom and availed himself of the facilities, glad to see that they were compatible with human anatomy. After he finished, he was about to return to the living room to annoy T'Parief when he heard a voice. Curious, he quietly snuck down the hall in the opposite direction, peeking through a doorway that led into what was obviously a large den. Three Gorn were seated across from each other.  
"These latest numbers confirm it," the one said, "it's a complete failure."  
"Hardly," another replied, "They're less than we anticipated, but the prototype unit-"  
"Functions well enough," finished the first, "But not well enough to consider additional investment!"  
"Do you not understand the power of the weapon I am offering you?" snarled the first softly, "With some additional research, we could-"  
"We are no longer interested in this venture," the third cut him off. Immediately both others were silent. Obviously this third Gorn held some kind of power, "The final funds will be transferred to you, as you have met your end of the bargain. But 'Project Triad' is finished."  
Jall eased away, tiptoeing back to the living room. Whatever they were going on about, it sounded like business. Boring business.

"Porter, hurry up!" Jall called, banging on the door the next afternoon, "Trish is meeting us for coffee, and she gets grumpy when I'm late!"  
No answer.  
"C'mon!" Jall whined, "I crawled out of bed to go to some stupid conference, but you won't do the same to have coffee with a pretty girl? Even if she does have a boyfriend? You could steal her, just grow scales and some fangs…"  
Nothing.  
Frowning, Jall tapped at the door, bypassing the security lock.  
Porter's suite was a disaster. Furniture was overturned, a crystal ornament smashed to pieces. The drapes billowed in, disturbed by the breeze from the broken window.  
"Uh-oh," Jall muttered.  
There was a soft scuffle behind him, then everything went dark.

"Does your father even still live here?" Yanick asked as she and T'Parief left the family home on their way to the theatre, "I haven't seen him for the past two days!"  
"It is his way," T'Parief grumbled, "Show up, give criticism, then leave!"  
"I'm sure deep down he loves you," Trish said, reaching far up to put a hand on his shoulder.  
"He is Gorn. The only part of the mating process he cares about is the sex. What results from that is irrelevant."  
"So you're a momma's boy," Yanick shrugged, "Big deal! Your mom's great!"  
T'Parief was silent.  
"At least Jall's gone," Yanick said, still trying to cheer him up, "I don't know why he didn't show up for coffee today, but at least you didn't have to deal with him!"  
"True," T'Parief smiled, "There is a bright spot after all."  
"Uh-oh," Yanick's gaze had been trapped by a public news terminal, where a newscaster was speaking, an artificially concerned look on her face.  
"And in other news, two more Starfleet officers have gone missing from the now cancelled Starfleet Operations Convention. Officials haven't yet released any details on the case, aside from the names of the missing officers. Officials have declined to comment on this new development, but confirm that 2 days ago two other officers were seriously beaten, one of whom did not recover from his injuries," she looked off screen for a moment, "I have been informed that we've pulled up images of the missing men from Starfleet records.  
Yanick gasped; the images were unmistakably Craig Porter and San Jall.  
"YES!" T'Parief cried out.

To be continued…

Next: Who kidnapped Jall and Porter? Why? What the heck is Jeffery up to? Does Stafford get his fingers separated? More Silverado coming your way in two weeks!


	9. Ops Hunt

Star Traks: Silverado

2.9 "Ops Hunt"

"I don't know but I've been told,  
If I don't obey, I'll be sold,  
I don't know but it's been said,  
If I don't please her, I'll be dead!"

Jeffery sang out the marching tune as he and 14 other men marched through the pouring rain. It was his second day now at Internment Camp 12, and he was still exhausted from day one.  
After his arrival, he had immediately been issued a uniform consisting of navy blue pants, a white shirt with tie and a navy tunic. The tunic hid all but the collar of the shirt and was, Jeffery knew, based on uniforms used by the air force branch of the Canadian Armed Forces, although little else about his experience was in any way similar to anything done by that organization. He'd been told in no uncertain terms that his uniform was to be kept perfectly spotless at all times. He'd spent half the night trying to figure out how to use the antique clothing iron that had been provided and had succeeded only in burning his fingers.  
Jeffery looked straight ahead, trying to stay in step with the rest of his squad as they followed their leader to the mess hall. Jeffery winced as a passing vehicle splashed water across his left leg, soaking his pants below the knee.  
"Squad, HALT!" cried out the leader, "Right, TURN!"  
Gulping, Jeffery obeyed the commands, trying and failing to synchronize his movements with the rest of his squad.  
The leader walked from what had been the front rank of the squad, now made the left flank by the turn she had ordered. Taking slow, measured steps she stopped right in front of Jeffery.  
Although it was raining very hard and her clothing was soaked, the leader was an imposing figure. Towering over Jeffery, her taught muscles were visible even through her uniform. Her thick, black hair was pulled back in a severe bun. Barely seeming to notice the rain as it dripped down her green skin, she slowly circled Jeffery.  
"That almost sounds like you are…uncomfortable," she said finally.  
"Nay," Jeffery murmured.  
"No," snapped the leader.  
"No!" Jeffery corrected himself, forcing back his accent for the one word.  
"No, what?" the leader demanded.  
"No, I am not uncomfortable," Jeffery replied.  
"No, I am not uncomfortable, MADAM!" the leader shrieked, causing Jeffery to jump. His eyes met hers briefly.  
"You will look straight ahead when I address you, worm!" Madam commanded.  
"Yes, Madam," Jeffery replied.  
"20 pushups," Madam ordered.  
"In this muck?" Jeffery asked.  
Madam slapped him across the face.  
"How dare you question me!" she snarled, "50 pushups!" She knocked Jeffery's legs out from under him, sending him sprawling to the muddy ground.

First Officer's Log, Supplemental,  
"Our mission to map Sector 317-R is, to this point, quite uneventful. Very uneventful. I can only hope that Ensign Yanick and Lt. Cmdr. T'Parief are having a more interesting vacation.  
"I really must admire the Captain's dedication to duty during this assignment. One might expect that he would take advantage of his Captain's Prerogative to enjoy some time off while things are quiet, but he has been in his ready room for the past day. He has not left to eat or sleep. I wonder what kind of project he is working on."

Captain Christopher Stafford sat in his ready room, head down on his desk. A string of drool dripped from one corner of his mouth.  
"Chris, it's time to get up," Sylvia said softly.  
No response.  
Quickly increasing the volume to the ready room speakers, Sylvia tried again.  
"Captain, it is time to wake up!"  
Stafford grumbled slightly, licking his lips.  
"I don't sleep like this!" Sylvia cried out, annoyed, "Anytime somebody calls me it's-"  
Sylvia pulled up a video on Stafford's desk where a big blue cartoon genie was complaining to a cartoon human who looked somewhat like Lieutenant Jall:

"POOF! What do you need?"  
"POOF! What do you need?"  
"POOF! WHAT DO YOU NEED!?"

Stafford didn't stir.  
Turning off the 'Aladdin' recording. Sylvia sighed.  
"Really, if I kept snoozing every time somebody on this crew wanted my attention, I'd be in for an overhaul before I know what hit me! He must get it from his father."  
Realizing that she was talking to herself, Sylvia sighed again. Time for drastic measures. She increased the volume in the ready room to 120 percent and initiated playback.  
"BAAA! BAAA! BAAA! BA-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUM! BA-DUUUM! DUM!  
The 1812 Overture roared through the room as Stafford's screen displayed a green cartoon duck being shot at by dozens of cartoon canons.  
"HUH! WHAZZA?" Stafford cried as he jerked up, his Starfleet-issue desk pad still stuck firmly to his forehead, "OW!" he reached up to grab the pad, wanting to stop the agonizing pull where the pad was glued firmly to his skin. He cried out in pain again as he felt a similar pull on his hands. Remembering his predicament, he let his head and desk pad fall back to the desk. While constructing a model of his ship, he had become a bit sloppy with the glue. The result was that the fingers on both his hands were glued firmly to a tiny plastic replica of a warp nacelle and his forehead was glued to the work pad he kept on his desk.  
"I think it's officially time to call Dr. Wowryk," Sylvia declared.  
"No, I don't think so," Stafford said stubbornly, his voice muffled by the desk, "I'd never hear the end of it."  
"Nurse Kerry?"  
"She'd tell Wowryk,"  
"Nurse Veeneman?"  
"She'd tell Kerry, who'd tell Wowryk!"  
"You've been stuck like that for over 24 hours. You're starting to smell a bit ripe," Sylvia observed, "You know, cleanliness is next to Godliness."  
"Has that bitch been tampering with your programming now?" Stafford demanded, "And since when do you have a sense of smell?"  
"No, and internal sensors measure particle counts in the atmosphere. I interpret the data as scent. By the way, I estimate you have 43 hours and 12 minutes remaining before you die of dehydration. Perhaps Commander Noonan can help?"  
"No!" Stafford said firmly, "I'm the Captain, I'm going to get myself out of this mess! Without losing any skin!"  
Silence.  
"So, how's Jeffery enjoying his time off?" Stafford asked, trying unsuccessfully to work his fingers free of the plastic model piece they had become attached to without causing huge amounts of pain.  
"I don't know," Sylvia replied.  
"But you must know. I mean, you know everything that happens on this ship!"  
"I do," Sylvia conceded, "And if I may so, it's not healthy for a male your age to go for so long with sexual release-"  
"Back to Jeffery!" Stafford cried.  
"I could easily determine what he's doing. But it's really none of my business. I have to respect the privacy of the crew sometimes, holodeck time being one of them."  
"Oh. Hey, then how come you know so much about me?"  
"You're rarely on the holodeck," Sylvia replied primly.  
"Well, you might want to exercise some discretion, y'know, OUTSIDE the holodeck!"  
"I'm just following Standard Operation Procedures," Sylvia said. Stafford could almost hear the shrug in her voice.  
"Sylvia, YOU are not standard. I think we need to make some exceptions to the rules."  
"Says the Captain with his head glued to the desk," Sylvia chuckled.  
Stafford sighed.  
"OK, OK. Stafford to Fifebee."  
"Yes, Captain," Fifebee replied over the comm.  
"Lieutenant, I have need of your services." Stafford grunted.  
"Of course. Any in particular?"  
"Um, your ability to handle unusual situation with discretion, professionalism and objectivity,"  
"Of course. I'll be right there."  
"Lots of big words there," Sylvia chucked. Are you sure she's the one you want, sweetie? I'm sure that-"  
"Butt out. I know what I'm doing."  
"Suit yourself."  
The doors opened as Fifebee stepped in.  
"How may I assist…" Fifebee trailed off as she surveyed Stafford's predicament. She then proceeded to burst out laughing.  
"So much for professionalism," Sylvia laughed.  
"I'll get the nail polish remover," Fifebee giggled.  
"You both suck," Stafford stated.

"Well, it sure is a beautiful day out," Trish Yanick remarked to her boyfriend as they sat eating breakfast. The terrace they were on extended out from the kitchen of T'Parief's parents' home, not far from the downtown core of the capitol city of Nisus. Founded as a science colony, Nisus had attracted scientists of all races from across the Federation and beyond, becoming the single most multicultural planet in the quadrant. It made perfect sense then that such a place would produce a being like T'Parief, who had Klingon, Andorian and Gorn ancestry.  
"It is," T'Parief agreed, reading a news padd and munching on Mousies, the all-natural, all rodent, sugar-free breakfast cereal preferred by 4 out of 5 Gorn and containing 12 essential nutrients, according to the box sitting between them. Yanick had opted for scrambled eggs instead.  
"Perfect weather for walking, swimming," Yanick went on.  
"Yup," T'Parief muttered.  
"Or," Yanick twirled her hair around one finger, "I don't know…HELPING YOUR KIDNAPPED FRIEND!" She slammed both fists on the table, rattling the cutlery.  
"Friend?" T'Parief asked, not meeting her gaze, "I wouldn't really call Porter a friend. I've only met him once."  
"You know I wasn't talking about Porter!" Yanick snapped, "I'm talking about San! We don't know what's happened to him! They could be torturing him right now!"  
"One can only hope," T'Parief muttered under his breath.  
"I'M SERIOUS!" Yanick bellowed, causing T'Parief to start, almost dropping his spoon to the floor.  
"Trish," T'Parief explained patiently, "He's an Operations Officer. He doesn't know military or command secrets like a Captain would and he doesn't know any technological secrets that a high-ranking engineer would know. I doubt he could tell them anything they couldn't find in any Starship User's Manual."  
"Then how come four Operations Officers have been attacked?"  
T'Parief shrugged.  
"Maybe the kidnapper has some bizarre fetish."  
"Then San could be being horribly raped right now!"  
"I doubt it," T'Parief grumbled, "You can't rape the willing," he muttered softly.  
Yanick fumed for a moment.  
"They you're not going to do anything to help him?" she demanded.  
"Nope," T'Parief replied, turning back to his padd.  
"He's your friend."  
"Hardly. He's more of a minor irritant. Nisus Security can handle it."  
"He's your crewmate and a fellow officer!" Yanick snapped, "It's your duty to find out what happened to him."  
T'Parief's lips tightened. Damn! She had said the 'D' word.  
"It is," he said slowly, the words tasting like week-old blood pie, "my duty."

"I think you'll find, Lieutenant Commander, that our own investigators are more than capable of looking into these kidnappings," Chief Inspector Boosfesh stated, "I appreciate your offer, but this really is a Nisus internal matter-"  
"All of the victims have been Starfleet Officers," T'Parief cut in, "and none of the victims are actually residents of Nisus."  
"The attacks occurred on our soil-"  
"To our officers!"  
"Nisus has a very unique culture," Boosfesh said, "I realize that in Starfleet you deal with a variety of aliens, but Nisus is-"  
"-different," T'Parief cut in, "I know. I grew up here."  
"Oh,"  
"Who's handling the investigation?" T'Parief asked.  
"Inspector Klosek," Boosfesh sighed.  
T'Parief nodded.  
"I know Klosek," he said, "He's an idiot,"  
"I don't think-" Boosfesh started.  
"I will contact him and offer my services." T'Parief walked out.  
"Very masterful," Yanick said approvingly.  
"You are an evil woman sometimes," T'Parief stated.  
"Honey, shut up."

Had T'Parief been in Jeffery's shoes, he might have re-thought his opinion of Yanick.  
"Faster, you maggot!" screamed the drill sergeant as Jeffery frantically jumped through a series of dark rings, 'tires' his bunk-mate had told him they were called. Joey was, of course, barely working up a holographic sweat as he ran his third circuit of the obstacle course. Jeffery was falling apart. He'd torn the back of his shirt crawling under barbed wire; only the holodeck safeties had prevented him from getting a serious cut. Sweat poured down his back; the rain from earlier had ended just before the squad had started physical training, replaced by a bright, hot sun beating down on them.  
Stumbling on the last tire, Jeffery found himself flying face-first onto the still-damp ground. One of his squad-mates, a stocky young Bajoran hologram took a second to help heave Jeffery to his feet, the two of them continuing before Madam's whip could descend.  
Madam herself stood in the center of the field, her uniform replaced by a snug but professional short and tank top combo. Her emerald-green skin gleamed in the sunlight, the top accentuating her ample chest. In one hand she held a long bull-whip. She watched the struggling squad with an eagle eye, snapping the whip out at any who lagged.  
Jeffery cleared the barbed wire for the third time, the drill sergeant telling him the whole time how he was inbred and prone to fits of low intelligence. Gasping for breath, he reached the climbing wall and starting heaving himself up the ropes hanging from the top.

After finishing the course, Jeffery and his squad were permitted a short rest break. Jeffery collapsed on the ground, refusing to move until Joey brought him a bottle of water.  
"Thanks," Jeffery gasped. He drank several gulps, then coughed.  
"Man," Joey said after a few moments, "What did we do to deserve this?"  
Nothing, Jeffery thought to himself, You're a hologram that I programmed.  
Out loud, "Ah dunno. Ah suppose she has her reasons for treating us this way."  
"She has her reasons for everything," Joey scowled, "Doesn't make it right! She's a cold-hearted, green-skinned tyrant who enjoys putting us through hell."  
"She hasn't done anything that bad," Jeffery said, "Just lots of work."  
Joey looked at him incredulously.  
"Dude, how can you said that?" he demanded, "She treats you worse than any of us! I don't know what you did to get sent here, but it's like she's out to get you! Pushups in the mud, peeling potatoes, cleaning the dumpsters. How could you possibly defend that?"  
Jeffery was quiet.  
"Punishment is one thing," Joey went on, "What she's doing, it's just cruelty for the sake of cruelty. We don't need that, dude!"  
"No," Jeffery said softly, "You're right. We don't."  
The conversation ended as the drill sergeant called for the squad to form up.

"Something's been bothering me," Trish said as she followed T'Parief along the high-speed slide-walk to the neighborhood in which Inspector Klosek was looking for clues.  
"And what is that?" T'Parief asked, watching the passing street signs.  
"You said that Klosek was, um," Yanick scratched her head, "Darn. You called him something. It was rude. It's on the tip of my tongue…"  
"An idiot," T'Parief stated.  
"Yeah!" Yanick brightened, "An idiot!"  
"He is. So?"  
"Why would they put an idiot in charge of an investigation like this?"  
T'Parief blinked. One thing about Yanick: she could sound like a complete ditz one minute, then throw out an intelligent observation without a problem.  
"He may be an idiot," T'Parief answered, "But he is probably the best Nisus Security has."  
"Huh?"  
T'Parief sighed.  
"Trish, it's easy for us to forget, living on a starship and dealing with the unknown, but crime really is all but non-existent on most Federation planets. Planetary security forces for Vulcan, Nisus, Andor or Tellar spend most of their time rescuing kittens, sehlats or voxvims from trees, giving parking tickets and helping elderly females across the street. While they are, for the most part, highly intelligent, they are also inexperienced when it comes to serious crimes, "  
Noticing that they were approaching the correct neighborhood, T'Parief guided Yanick as they switched slide-walks, moving from the inner high speed track to slower and slower tracks closer to the sidewalk. As they moved from the slowest track onto the actual street, he continued.  
"The Federation has trillions of citizens," he said, "even so, the number of non-starship security personnel who have actually dealt with a violent crime would be an incredibly tiny percentage."  
"What about, like, Andor," Yanick asked, "I was there once. It was scary."  
"Andorians have a very different definition of violent crime," T'Parief said.  
"I thought you said you trusted these people to get Jall back!" Yanick accused.  
"I do. It would just take them a very long time."  
They had arrived in a suburban neighborhood, primarily Horta from the looks of things. The 'houses' where nothing more than decorated blocks of permacrete with various tunnels burned into them by the rock-like aliens' powerful acids. On Janus V, the Hortas lived deep underground, eating through the rock to make their tunnels.  
"I didn't know there were Hortas living here," Yanick commented.  
"They are miners," T'Parief replied, "They-"  
"Dig for stuff," Yanick nodded, "Got it. So you think one of them kidnapped Jall?"  
"No," T'Parief shook his head, "Hortas are among the most peaceful beings in the Federation. This is where Inspector Klosek is currently…inspecting. Which is really stupid."  
"I hear he's an idiot," Yanick commented.

"Hmmm…" Inspector Klosek mumbled to himself as he ran his tiny brush over a section of tunnel wall . He was average height for a Patrian, a bit taller than human average. He had a slightly snakelight appearance, with scales of a light gold hue and large copper eyes. Pulling out his powder, he proceeded to dust another tunnel section.  
"Ah….ah….AH-CHOO!" he sneezed violently, sending a cloud of fingerprinting power up in the air.  
"Excuse you." Grumbled a low voice from directly behind him.  
Whirling around, Klosek lost his grip on the power bag, the contents flying out in a thick cloud that engulfed the two Starfleet officers approaching him.  
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" Klosek cried out, "You scared the…Pari?"  
Yanick giggled.  
"My name is T'Parief," the reptile grumbled.  
"Sure it is," chuckled Klosek, "and we actually called you that…until about 4th grade!"  
"4th grade?" Yanick asked.  
"I am here to assist you with the disappearance of two Starfleet officers," T'Parief stated, brushing himself off as Yanick sneezed, raising another cloud of powder, "What are you doing?"  
"Dusting for fingerprints!" Klosek said proudly.  
"Huh?"  
"I read it in a detective novel," Klosek replied, "You can use fingerprints to identify the culprit!"  
"Did you check the publishing date on that novel?" T'Parief demanded.  
Klosek shrugged.  
"No, but the characters were using computers, so it must be pretty recent."  
Rolling his eyes, T'Parief pulled out his tricorder and started scanning.  
"Is there a particular reason why you are searching for two missing and presumed assaulted people in an unoccupied building in a section of town home to beings that have never been known to knowingly commit a crime?" T'Parief asked sharply, continuing to tap at his tricorder.  
"Well-" Klosek started.  
"Have you scanned their quarters and last known location?" the Starfleet officer continued.  
"I-"  
"There is nothing here," T'Parief announced, closing his tricorder, "Come, let us return to the Hospitality Center."  
"Ohhh," Yanick whined, "I hate riding those slidewalks…my legs get tired!"  
"We can take my vehicle," Klosek offered.  
"Goody!"

"ARRRGHHHH!"  
San Jall was rudely awaked by a loud, ear-slitting scream.  
Jall attempted to pull himself up from where he lay sprawled on the rough floor, managing only to groan as pain spiked though his head, especially around the back where he had been so rudely clubbed.  
"AHHHHH!"  
Jall focused on the scream, trying to catch his bearings. It was a scream. Human, or humanoid. Male. Sounded more like a scream of terror rather than a scream of pain or sexual ecstasy.  
Deciding that Yanick was right; he really did watch too much bizarre porn, Jall tried again to haul himself to his feet. The room he was in was small and dirty, and looked like it had been carved into concrete. Staggering to the door, he found it unlocked, but a second, barred door was in place right beyond. Squinting through the bars, Jall could see Porter.  
The Waystation officer was strapped to a table, reclined back so he could see whatever it was that was in front of him. He was shirtless and sweat ran down his body. He didn't look hurt to Jall, but he was the source of the screams. Some kind of helmet was attached to his head. Jall's view was blocked by a wall, he couldn't see what Porter was looking at.  
"Are you ready to talk yet?" A voice snarled. Female, from the sounds of it, Jall decided as another wave of pain ran through his head. Female, and familiar.  
"Never!" Porter gasped, "I don't know what you want, but you won't get it from me!"  
"Oh, don't be that way," pouted Porter's adversary, "I'd hate to play…rough. Actually, I'd love to play rough, but I need you awake and able to talk!"  
Porter spit. The spit wad didn't make it very far, landing on Porter's lap, but from the reaction of the other party, the thought definitely counted!  
"Filth!" she snarled. There was a beep, then lights lit up on the contraption on Porter's head. He squeezed his eyes shut and screamed again.  
"NOOOOO!"  
The other party stepped into view.  
"K'Eleese!" Jall gasped.  
"Ohhh!" the Klingon woman squealed with excitement, "My other guest is awake! Goody!" she turned to Porter, "Well sweetie, I guess I can give you some time to reflect on…what you've seen. Maybe change your mind, hmmm?" She forced shackles onto Porter's wrists before unstrapping him and tossing him unceremoniously into another small room.  
"Ready to play?" she purred, approaching Jall's door.  
"F**k you!" Jall spat.  
K'Eleese opened the door to Jall's cell. Jall was on her immediately, striking at her head with a right hook. Laughing, K'Eleese blocked his punch and struck him hard in the gut. Jall doubled over, gasping as K'Eleese tossed him into her interrogation room. Within seconds Jall had been strapped down and the bizarre helmet attached to his head.  
"Now," K'Eleese, first, a taste for what's in store for you if I don't hear what I want!" She clicked a button.  
Pain lanced again through Jall's head. As he squeezed his eyes shut an image formed in his mind. A Klingon male, chained to a wall, blood streaming down his back. A hand appeared in the view, as though Jall was looking through the eyes of the hand's owner. He caught a glimpse of bright red fingernails before they lashed out, digging deep into the skin of the victim and drawing even more blood.  
The images faded, leaving Jall gasping, his throat raw. From screaming, he realized.  
"Cool, huh?" K'Eleese giggled, "Handy gadget, found it at a black market dealer on Acturas. Let's me broadcast my own memories to somebody else! Of course, it's not perfect, but I understand the pain causes no…permanent…damage!"  
"You sick bitch," Jall gasped.  
"Thank you! Now, tell me about quantum signatures."  
"Huh?"  
"I want to know about quantum signatures, and transporter resonance patterns!" K'Eleese growled.  
"Um," Jall was so taken aback he forgot to be defiant. Quantum signatures? What the hell was the point in torturing somebody over something you could find in any scientific database in the Federation?"  
"Wrong answer!"

"So, you're here to help me with the investigation," Klosek said, steering his aircar through the dark skies, "Have you ever investigated something like this before?"  
"I have been doing a lot of this, lately," T'Parief admitted. Aside from the Matrian incident he'd also investigated the mystery of two bodies found on Silverado and the transmission of embarrassing footage to the Associated Worlds Network. He'd been busy over the past year and told Klosek as much.  
"At least you're you, this time, "Yanick grumbled.  
"Huh?" Klosek asked.  
"Nothing," T'Parief said quickly. He'd been stuck in Yanick's body during his last two investigations, but the body-switching incident had been classified. He reflexively extended his claws, thinking of how much better it would be now that he was again a fearsome, strong Security officer.  
"Well, I'll admit that I don't mind the help," Klosek said, "Pari here might not be the sharpest stake in the garden, but at least he's got experience with this kinda stuff."  
They landed near the Starfleet Hospitality Center. Checking with the directory, they quickly found the rooms that had been assigned to Porter and Jall. Pulling out his tricorder, T'Parief proceeded to thoroughly scan them.  
"I'm detecting traces of Klingon DNA," he said.  
"So?" Yanick asked.  
"A Klingon was here recently," T'Parief stated, "In both rooms. As there are no Klingons on the cleaning staff, we can conclude that the attacker was Klingon."  
"Oh."  
"Klexish to Pari," T'Parief's comm-badge chirped.  
"Mother," T'Parief sighed, "For the last time-"  
"Your father's gone!" Klexish cried.

Jall gasped as the images faded again. This time he'd been forced to re-live K'Eleese's attack on Silverado from her point of view. It was actually pretty neat, especially the way the lights on the saucer had faded after the pulse cannon had shorted out the saucer power conduits.  
Of course, the mind-splitting paid had distracted him somewhat from the experience.  
"I will ask again," K'Eleese growled, "How do I alter the quantum signature of the phase transition coils?"  
"I don't know!" Jall cried out, "I didn't know you could, or why you'd want to!"  
"I told you he would be of no help,"  
Jall looked around frantically, trying to find the source of the new voice.  
"I know," K'Eleese replied, tossing her control padd to the table, "But he came snooping around Porters quarters after we took him. Besides, he's reasonably tasty. He could be a pleasant…diversion later."  
Jall gulped.  
"We don't have time for your 'diversions'," the voice snapped, "Starfleet is helping Nisus Security. We cannot stay here any longer."  
"And we will leave," K'Eleese assured him, "As soon as I get the information I need, we'll be on our way to a much…happier place!"  
"I suggest you stop wasting your time with this one and put Porter back on the rack."  
"I'm in charge here!" K'Eleese bellowed, "I will torture Porter again when I am damned good and ready!"  
There was silence for a moment.  
"Ok!" she said brightly, "I'm ready now!"  
"Good," grunted her companion, "And I have something that will help. But first…"  
Jall caught a flash of green as a green fist slammed into the side of his face.

T'Parief stood in the center of his parents' home, tricorder in hand.  
"I'm not detecting anything unusual," he shrugged, "Mother, perhaps he has gone drinking or something. It's not unusual for him to take off without telling us."  
"That's not true," Klexish snapped. She was sitting on the couch next to Yanick, "I'll admit he was always a bit distant with you kids, but he would always be home by 21:00 hours to make sweet love to me. Or at least he'd leave a message if he was going to be away."  
"Sweet love every day after decades of marriage?" Yanick asked, "That's so sweet!"  
"Isn't it," Klexish sighed.  
T'Parief gagged as he tapped at a console for the home computer.  
"Interesting," he frowned.  
"What?"  
"I'm not a computer expert," T'Parief said, "But there has been a large amount of data accessed in the past 24 hours. I cannot access Father's files of course, but I can see that most of them have been copied. Also…" T'Parief trailed off.  
"He's downloaded my kill log?" T'Parief scratched his head, avoiding the sensory nubs behind his cranial ridges, "What could he possibly want with my kill log?"  
"What about your brothers' logs?" Yanick asked.  
"One moment," buttons beeped, "No. They have not been accessed."  
"Are," Yanick hesitated, "Are any of his things missing?"  
"I haven't checked," Klexish admitted.  
They were. A quick check of the den and master bedroom showed that while none of Slezar's cloths were missing, several padds and isolinear chips had been taken from the library. T'Parief's brothers came home halfway through the search, but knew nothing.  
"There is no sign of a break-in," T'Parief reported, "But I did find…this." He held out a small blue flower.  
"He left us," Klexish muttered to herself.  
"Ohhh…" Yanick moved to give the older woman a hug, but Klexish deftly evaded her.  
"He has left us," Klexish said, louder, firmer and with just a hint of anger, "Very well. I take control of this House and all assets owned by this family. I claim the Gorn right of Sliznith. He will return to me on his knees, or we will fight to the death for control of this House," her shoulders dropped, "And now that we have the ritualistic bulls**t out of the way, I'm going to go get drunk." She marched out of the room, head held high.  
"But," Yanick cried out, "He could have been kidnapped! Or maybe he just got lost on the way home, or-"  
"Trish," T'Parief grumbled softly, "Don't.  
"But-"  
T'Parief held up the flower.  
"So?" Yanick said, "It's pretty!"  
"In Gorn society, a gift of something 'pretty' to your spouse is tantamount to serving up divorce papers."  
"WHAT?" Yanick demanded, "Then what if I wanted to give my husband a present!?"  
"A dead rat is considered the most romantic, but dead birds are popular too. Some say they represent the crushing of dreams."  
"That's sick!" Yanick snapped, "How can you be so calm! Your father just left your mother in what sounds like the most humiliating way a woman can be left!"  
T'Parief shrugged.  
"It's not exactly a surprise. It was time for Slezar to find another mate anyway."  
"WHAT!?"  
"Gorn do not mate for life," T'Parief explained.  
Yanick looked at him coldly.  
"You might have mentioned that BEFORE we started dating!" she snapped, storming out of the room and leaving T'Parief standing in the center of the deserted den.  
"But I'm not Gorn!" he said to the empty room.

"Porter, are you over there?" Jall called out. His head was throbbing again, but K'Eleese must have gone upstairs with her companion, leaving the two of them alone in their cells.  
"Yeah," Porter groaned, "I'm here. I sort of wish I was on Risa instead, but I'm here."  
"You OK?"  
"Um," there was a pause, "Yeah. I'm fine. Good, actually, just tired."  
"Pretty mild as far as torture goes, huh?"  
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Porter gave a dry laugh, "I have this powerful urge to NEVER have that helmet on my head again!"  
"Would you rather she had used a neural neutralizer, or maybe plasma whips?"  
"Um, no."  
"So how do we get out of-"  
The conversation was interrupted by the creak of a door; K'Eleese and her companion had returned.  
"Hello my pretty little Operations man!" K'Eleese said happily, slamming open the door to Porter's cell, "I'm so sorry we don't have more time to get to know each other, but we're sort of in a hurry now."  
Porter lunged at K'Eleese, aiming a fist for her gut. K'Eleese easily blocked the blow, but Porter had anticipated her move and took the chance to dart past her and into the main room. Sliding past the interrogation table, he rushed towards the stairs-  
-only to find his way blocked!  
A large Gorn was coming down the stairs. With an almost casual gesture he tossed Porter back down the stairs and into K'Eleese's waiting arms.  
"Slezar!" Jall called out, "Thank God! She's crazy! She's insane! She's going to…um, why are you laughing?"  
T'Parief's father was indeed laughing at Jall.  
"I know how insane she is," Slezar chucked, "But she also has very large breasts. And the best opportunity for my work to be properly used!"  
"Huh?"  
"Nevermind that!" K'Eleese snapped, strapping Porter onto the table, "Where's the hypo?  
"What are you doing?" Porter asked, panicked.  
"Oh, don't worry," K'Eleese smiled, "We really don't have time to give you the full treatment, so we're just going to extract what we need as efficiently as possible. One shot of this," she held up the hypo that Slezar had handed to her, "and you'll tell me nothing but the absolute truth!"  
"Uh-oh," Porter mumbled.  
"So, just out of curiosity," Jall asked, "Were you planning on helping me when you made your escape?"  
"This isn't really the time, Jall," Porter gasped, trying to twist away from the hypo coming closer and closer to his neck, "I'm sort of busy!"  
HSSSSSS!  
"Uggghhhh…." Porter grunted, his head tipping forward.  
"This will take a few minutes to take effect," Slezar said, "Shall we…"  
"What, again?' K'Eleese asked, a huge grin on her face, "You animal!" She ran up the stairs, Slezar in close pursuit.  
"Oh, yuck," Jall moaned. There were a few moments of silence. "Porter?"  
"Yeaaaahh?" Porter's voice was sluggish, drawn out.  
"What do you think they gave you?"  
"Truth serum," Porter replied.  
"Really?"  
"Yup."  
Jall scratched his head, "Any way to know for sure?"  
"Ask me something you know I'd lie to."  
"Hmm," Jall thought for a moment, "When's the last time you had sex?"  
"Month or two ago," Porter said  
"Well that doesn't help," Jall paced for a moment, then inspiration struck, "Was she hot?"  
"Yeah, but she was an absolute lunatic,"  
"Warmer," Jall returned to pacing.  
"In fact," Porter continued dreamily, "All the women that chase after me have been evil, cruel, mean…yet I'd do every one of them again,"  
"Close enough," Jall sighed, "It's a truth serum."

T'Parief and Klosek hunted through the Nisus Convention Center, T'Parief with his tricorder and Klosek with a small security scanner. Having found nothing beyond the Klingon DNA in Porter's quarters, the two had expanded their search. Klosek had objected when T'Parief insisted that they continue their investigation through the night. He had reconsidered after T'Parief pointed out that kidnapping was a very time-sensitive issue.  
"So, how's Starfleet been treating you?" Klosek asked, his golden scales reflecting the dim lights.  
"I am Chief of Security on a powerful starship," T'Parief grunted, "The crew respects me and my enemies fear me."  
"Sounds great," Klosek stifled a yawn, "But don't you ever get tired of being the big bad? When we were younger, you were such a cheerful guy! Now you're about as much fun as a tribble at a Klingon family reunion.  
T'Parief chuckled softly.  
"I actually brought a tribble to my grandparent's home on my 10th Day of Honor. They were not amused. The Family was stabbing me with pain sticks for hours."  
"I bet."  
T'Parief hesitated.  
"How have things been on Nisus?" he asked.  
"What, your parents didn't fill you in?"  
"They have not."  
Klosek shrugged.  
"Things were a bit dicey during the Dominion War," he said, "We're a pretty important research center, so Starfleet always made sure we were protected. Hmnm, we added our first Betelman citizen about 6 months ago."  
"I see."  
Klosek went on, detailing changes on Nisus while T'Parief had been away. T'Parief really didn't care about Councelor Vlon's latest attempt to homogenize the school system, and the last annual Andorian Rampage of Excruciating Pain and Ecstasy was only moderately interesting, but his detailed explanation kept Klosek busy and allowed T'Parief to concentrate.  
Finally, he had to interrupt him.  
"Klosek," T'Parief asked, "I have been meaning to ask: why were you looking for clues in that Horta habitat to being with?"  
"Oh, that. Somebody called me yesterday to report a short Klingon dragging two big sacks down a sidewalk. I thought it might be useful, but that was before you reminded me that we had to scan these places."  
T'Parief's hands clenched so tight his talons dug deep into his palms.  
"WHAT?"

Jeffery tossed and turned on his hard bunk, the soft snoring of his holographic companions not quite relaxing enough to help lull him to sleep.  
Jeffery's entire body ached. The marching, the obstacle course, the potato peeling, all had taken a toll on his battered body. Hard work was hardly something new to the engineer; Jeffery spent most of his day working with technology and while a good part of that work was done with panels and circuits, there was enough heavy labor and time spent climbing up shafts and through Jefferies tubes that Jeffery was no slouch. He'd also had to endure Starfleet Academy's rigorous physical training and survival exercises.  
But Jeffery had wanted to go to the Academy, and through every test, every exercise, every back-breaking task he reminded himself that would be a light at the end of the tunnel; his commission.  
Here, there was nothing. He was working because Madam said so, doing what Madam told him to and for no reason other than that Madam told him to.  
He hated that bitch. Every sweat-slicked, shining green muscle of her. She was as beautiful as Dr. Wowryk and only slightly more demanding. But he loved Noel. Didn't he? If he really loved her, why wasn't he spending his time with her, obeying her every whim rather than slaving away to this sadistic hologram of his own design.  
Taking a deep breath, Jeffery pulled himself out of his bunk, pulled on his boots and left the barracks.

"Really?" Jall asked in surprise, "Wow, I really thought Captain Beck was younger than that. Plastic surgery?"  
"No," Porter slurred, "She just moisturizes and exfoliates."  
"Wow. Hey, and how about Lieutenant Russel? Did he really have a threesome with 2 Roznians?"  
"Lieutenant Russel couldn't handle two women if his life depended on it," Porter gasped out.  
"Hmmm,"  
"San, I really think you should focus on an escape plan. Once they get back, they'll get what they want!"  
"About that," Jall said, "What do we know that they could possibly want?"  
"Waystation's weapon schematics, Silverado's shield modulation, plans for a Tellarite self-stimulator, how should I know?"  
"I mean," Jall said, "She already has detailed info on Waystation. She sabotaged you last year! Starfleet ships change vital information like command codes and shield modulations on a regular basis; there's no point in going to this much trouble to get them! Operations Officers don't really have access to any really juicy classified stuff."  
Porter was quiet.  
"Unless you know something I don't," Jall said, half to himself now, "They went after you first, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time…so there must be something that you know about that she wants."  
Porter bit his lip.  
"Is it wearing off?" Jall asked, "Why won't you tell me?"  
"'There must be something you know about that she wants' is a statement, not a question. I didn't think I have to answer truthfully unless you ask a question," Porter closed his eyes, "Dammit!"  
"Do you have any idea what she wants?" Jall asked.  
"I have a pretty good idea. And she's not going to like what she finds out."  
"Time for talkies!" K'Eleese announced, fastening the clasps on her shirt as Slezar followed her down the stairs, puffing on a cigarette, "Is my little Operations man all set to tell me everything I want to know?"  
"No! He's not!" Jall cried out, "You took too long. The truth thing wore off. Better give it another try and come back in an hour."  
Ignoring him, K'Eleese brought her face so close to Porter's their noses were almost touching.  
"Are you going to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you, dog?" K'Eleese gave a giggle, "I heard that on holo-vision somewhere…"  
"I am," Porter slurred, "but I don't want to."  
"Good," K'Eleese purred. She pulled out a padd, "Now tell me, Mr. Porty-pie, what is the significance of a quantum phasic variance?"  
"A quantum phasic variance describes the vibration patterns of the quantum particles that make up all matter in the universe," Porter recited.  
"Excellent. And what is the quantum phasic variance of matter?"  
As Porter started reciting numbers, Jall frowned. Almost unconsciously, he found himself silently repeating the formula with him. He knew it like the back of his hand; it had been drilled thoroughly into his head during his high school Quantum Mechanics class. Could K'Eleese possibly be so inept as to need to torture Porter for something she could find in any library?  
"Good boy," K'Eleese sighed as she patted Porter on the head, "Now, is it possible to change a quantum phasic variance?"  
No, Jall thought to himself.  
"No," Porter said, "It's impossible."  
K'Eleese licked her lips.  
"So then, I will never see a phasic variance different from this one?" she held up the padd.  
No, Jall thought, Of course not. Unless….oh, s**t!"  
"Every universe has it's own variance," Porter stated, "Persons or objects from parallel universes will have their own unique phasic variance."  
"Excellent!" K'Eleese cacked, clapping her manicured hands together.  
"You do realize you could get all that from any well stocked library, you dumb bitch!" Jall snapped.  
"Hurt him," K'Eleesesaid, waving in Jall's direction. Slezar walked over, delivered a hard shot to Jall's gut then returned to his seat.  
"Of course I do, fool!" K'Eleese snapped, "But not everything I need can be found so easily!" she turned her attention back to Porter, "Now, my bearded little man, if I wanted to travel to another quantum reality, how would I do so?"  
"Any transporter system with a Mark XI or better emitter array can be modified to break through the quantum barrier," Porter said dreamily, "You just need to use a multi-spectral quantum pulse generator to alter the phasic variance harmonics of the matter stream to match the variance of the destination universe."  
K'Eleese picked up a cylindrical object from her workbench. Jall had no clue what it was, but Porter recognized it at once. He'd used a device just like to rescue Yeoman Jones from a very bad place…  
"Porty-pie," she said, hands trembling slightly, "What is this?"  
"It's a multi-spectral quantum pulse generator."  
"Good, good," K'Eleese carefully set the device down, "Very good. I killed the Orion who stole it for me, so an exchange or refund was out of the question. Now," K'Eleese swallowed, sweat glistening on her cranial ridges, "What is the quantum resonance signature of the parallel universe you discovered on stardate 50625.3?"  
Porter swallowed, shook his head, then swallowed again.  
"TELL ME!" K'Eleese roared, slamming a fist into Porter's thigh.  
"The truth serum is wearing off," Slezar said calmly, "Allow me."  
Pushing K'Eleese out of the way, Slezar clamped one meaty, clawed fist on each of Porter's arms, pushing his snout full of sharp teeth right into Porter's face.  
"Tell us," Slezar growled, "Or I'll do such things to you that you'll beg for death,"  
Porter said nothing.  
"Don't be silly," K'Eleese snapped, pushing Slezar away, "If you tear his throat out, there's no way he's going to be able to talk."  
"But it would be much fun," Slezar hissed.  
"I have a better idea," K'Eleese said ominously as she lowered her hands towards Porter's exposed ribs…  
And started ticking.  
Laughter poured out of Porter, tears started to pour from his eyes. K'Eleese's fingers ran over his ribs at warp speed.  
"I….won't…tell…you!" Porter gasped out, face red as a freshly boiled lobster.  
"Them I won't stop!" K'Eleese growled, digging her fingers into Porter's sides.  
Jall wasn't sure how long it went on, half an hour, an hour. By the end, Porter gasped out the number K'Eleese wanted, sweat dripping from every part of his body, cramps seizing his stomach like so many tiny little fists.  
"YES! YES! OH HAPPY DAY!" K'Eleese screamed out, "Finally! After all this time! I'm finally going to get there!"  
"Goody," Slezar grunted.  
"Shut up!" K'Eleese snapped, "Don't rain on my parade! I get the minions and soldiers I want, you get to make use of your precious Project Triad. We all win, and we'll all be happy…very happy!"

Simon Jeffery walked up the stairs to Madam's home on base, the steady cadence of his steps showing no sign of the butterflies flittering around his stomach. He'd removed his blues and was dressed in his Starfleet uniform, his mustard-yellow collar crisp, not a speck of lint visible on the grey shoulders or black pants. His boots clicked as he walked up the steps, opened the unlocked door and stepped inside.  
Madam was seated in a large chair, calmly regarding her fingernails.  
"I could you have written up for breaking curfew, you know," she said evenly, "Or perhaps you would prefer to-"  
"Shut up," Jeffery said quietly.  
Anger flashed in Madam's holographic eyes.  
"What?" she demanded.  
"SHUT UP!" Jeffery screamed, "YE EVIL, NASTY PERVERTED BITCH!" He took several deep breaths, then continued, "The only reason ye have power over me is because AH GRANTED IT TO YOU! Ah have the freedom to tell you to go to hell any time Ah want! Ah came here to learn something about myself: Ah came here willingly and willingly put myself under your control! Ah did everything you said, I tried to look up to ye, the same way Ah look up to Noel. But ye know what? Ah just didn't feel it!"  
Madam was silent.  
"Ah had to know," Jeffery continued, half to himself, "If it was something special about her, or whether it was something any beautiful woman could do. If Ah was just a slave deep down. Ah had to find out."  
"And what did you learn?" Madam asked coldly.  
"Ah don't need you," Jeffery said without hesitation, then took a deep, shuddering breath, "Wow!" Jeffery swallowed, "That, that was so easy!"  
He walked over to Madam, looking her straight in the eyes.  
"Ah don't need you! Sylvia! End program!"  
Jeffery walked out the holodeck doors as Madam, the house, Joey and the entire holographic base vanished.

"Drive faster, you idiot!" T'Parief snarled as Klosek weaved his aircar through heavy traffic, "For Blork's sake, it is the middle of the night! Where are these people going?"  
"There's a very popular Benzar night club nearby," Klosek said meekly, "At least it's a night club now. Used to just be a Benzar stock exchange, but between the respirator mist from the Benzites and the bass beats they use for stock updates, well, these things happen…"  
"Shut up!" T'Parief snarled, "If you had told me in the first place that you had received a vital clue-"  
"You didn't ask!" Klosek whined, trying to rub the buzzing out of his ears after T'Parief's scream, "Besides, you said we had to scan-"  
"You had a lead and should have told me! End of story!"  
"But, um, even if they are still in the Horta neighborhood, how are we going to find them?"  
"With this," T'Parief held up his tricorder, "How many Humans, Klingons and Human/Trill hybrids do you think are hanging out with the Hortas?"  
"Couldn't you have just scanned for them from orbit?  
"Maybe if we had a starship," T'Parief snapped, tapping at his tricorder as Klosek brought them in for a landing in the center of the Horta neighborhood, "Hmm. The life signs are nowhere near the home you were initially investigating, but I'm reading a Human, a Klingon, a Human/Trill and…a Gorn?"  
"Sounds like a party," Klosek smirked.  
T'Parief looked at the Patrian officer.  
"You are beginning to remind me of Lieutenant Jall," he said, "If you wish to remain alive and healthy, that is not a good thing! We must proceed on a bearing of 154 degrees for 200 meters. Wait, the Klingon and Gorn lifesigns are moving. They are heading towards the city!"  
"Who do we go after?"  
T'Parief paused.  
"You will rescue Jall and Porter," T'Parief decided, "I am sure I don't want to. I will pursue the perpetrators."  
"Okie."

Jall stretched his arm through the bars of his cell door, trying to snag the key. K'Eleese, more excited that anybody had any right to be after torturing somebody had left Porter strapped to the table and had tossed the keys in Jall's general direction before running up the stairs. Forcing just a bit more of his arm between the bars, Jall snagged the key with the tip of his finger and pulled it in.  
"G-good work, San!" Porter gasped, still exhausted from his tickling experience, "now let me go!"  
"I dunno," Jall said coolly, opening his cell door then tossing the now-useless key over his shoulder, "you weren't really in that big a hurry to let ME go when you had the chance!"  
"Don't be stupid!" Porter objected, "She would have caught me in a second! At least if I got out, I could have gotten help!"  
"Uh-huh. In the meantime I could have become K'Eleese's new 'Operations Love-Puppet'!"  
Both men shuddered.  
"What did she want?" Jall asked, "What was all that about?"  
"Remember that parallel universe we talked about?" Porter asked, "The one where everybody was insanely happy, and the United Federation of Fun was led by lunatics?"  
"Oh-no…"  
"Oh yes," Porter groaned, tugging weakly at the straps still holding him down, "That's where she's trying to go!"  
"FREEZE!"  
Jall spun to find a golden-scaled Patrian officer holding a stun gun on him.  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Klosek said, holstering his stun gun, "I'm looking for two kidnapped Starfleeters. I didn't mean to interrupt your kinky little bondage fantasy."  
Porter rolled his eyes.  
"Just untie me!"

T'Parief had his attention divided between driving Klosek's aircar and tracking the Gorn and Klingon life signs with his tricorder. Klosek's vehicle, like so many things, just wasn't designed for a 7-foot tall reptile. T'Parief's knees were up by his elbows, his tail was crammed uncomfortably beneath him and his sensory nodes were jammed against the roof.  
Cursing, he stabbed at the controls, sending the vehicle out of the way of a young Dundani on an air-cycle. The teen flipped T'Parief the finger as he swerved in the opposite direction. T'Parief didn't dare take his eyes off the tricorder; he had left the Horta neighborhood and was in a suburb inhabited primary by Bolians, but the closer he got to the city core the more Nisus' unique mix of life forms would work against him. From the course they were following so far, the culprits were heading straight for the University of Nisus research complex. Research labs weren't exactly scarce on the science colony, and the U of N wasn't even the biggest one. What could they want there?  
"Jall to T'Parief,"  
T'Parief tapped his comm-badge, "You are alive. How disappointing,"  
"Nice to see you too," Jall replied, "Now shut up and listen! It's K'Eleese you're chasing! She's with your father, they're probably off to hijack a transporter somewhere."  
T'Parief was quiet for a moment.  
"Who is this?" he asked angrily.  
Jall let out an exasperated groan.  
"Look, you overgrown animal cracker," Jall said firmly, "Your father is working with K'Eleese, cuz she's going to help him with something called Project Triad."  
"Project Triad?" T'Parief asked, "That's impossible. That project ended years ago!"  
"Look, I'm just repeating what I heard at your house!" Jall snapped, "Whoever was helping him with it before backed out, K'Eleese going to help him in return for his help! She wants to get to some parallel universe that Porter discovered years ago, and she needs a transporter to do it! The whole reason she kidnapped Porter was because he had the information she needed to get there!"  
"Why does she want to get there so badly?" T'Parief asked.  
"I don't know! I'm just-"  
"Repeating what you heard. Very well. I will attempt to stop them from reaching a transporter.

K'Eleese and Slezar were racing towards the city core in K'Eleese's stolen vehicle.  
"You do realize," Slezar commented calmly, "That there are other transporters in easier to access locations. Such as at that transporter repair shop we just passed at the last exit."  
"Civilian transporters," K'Eleese scoffed, "They don't have the juice to get me where I want to go! But as you so kindly pointed out the U of N is testing new transporter technology for Starfleet. And since you just happen to work there…"  
"Yes, yes, I get the point," Slezar growled, "You would do well to show me some respect, wench, before I rip your still-beating heart from your chest!"  
"Oh, you're such a charmer!" K'Eleese sighed, "As soon as we get out of here I'm going to-"

K'Eleese's dialoge is being temporarily omitted to prevent readers from experiencing nausea, dry heaving, projectile vomiting and an overall feeling of disgust. The Management would like to apologize and to state that K'Eleese was hired before we realized what a nasty little deviant she was. Thank you. And now, back to our story.

T'Parief parked Klosek's aircar, siren lights flashing, at the main entrance to the University of Nisus and raced for the entrance. Predictably enough, the university was closed for the night. Ignoring the security padd that would likely ignore his Starfleet clearance anyway, T'Parief proceeded to force his claws between the sliding glass doors and to rip the left door out of its track. The door fell to the ground amid the tinkle of broken glass as T'Parief stormed into the main foyer, following his tricorder. K'Eleese and Slezar were on the same level as he was, but they had come to a stop in a chamber less than 200 meters away.  
Sprinting, T'Parief dodged through empty hallways, using a flashlight he'd found in Klosek's car to light his way. He only stumbled twice; once on a table that had been cleverly hidden around a corner by a sadistic interior designer intent on bruising as many shins as possible, then again after he snagged a talon on a loose carpet thread.  
He found himself in front of a room labeled 'Teleportation Studies, Access Restricted." The door had already been forced once; it was a simple matter to wedge his claws into the crumpled metal and to pull the door open again. Inside, a central transporter pad was surrounded by sensors, panels and unlabeled equipment.  
"Father!" T'Parief snapped.  
Slezar spun from where he and K'Eleese were hunched over a control panel.  
"Keep him busy!" K'Eleese snapped.  
"Spawn," Slezar hissed, "This is no concern of yours. Leave."  
"I will not," T'Parief said firmly, "You have abducted Starfleet Officers-"  
"Actually, that was me," K'Eleese said quickly, flashing T'Parief a big smile, "Hiya, handsome!"  
Ignoring her, T'Parief turned back to his father.  
"You tortured two men-"  
"Me again," K'Eleese chimed in again.  
"I only assisted," Slezar stated.  
"Aided and abetted an escaped criminal," T'Parief paused, eyes flashing to K'Eleese.  
"Sorry, sweetie," K'Eleese said, "I can't help you with that one."  
"You are both under arrest," T'Parief pronounced.  
"I think not!" Slezar answered, dropping into a fighting stance.  
T'Parief hesitated. He was a fearsome creature, it was true. But his father was a full blooded Gorn. His usual advantages of size and strength, while still present, wouldn't be as great as they would be had he been fighting a Human or Klingon. Plus, he really didn't want to fight his father.  
Slezar took the choice from him, darting forward. T'Parief blocked the blow, spinning on reflex, trying to throw Slezar off balance. Too skilled to fall for such a simple trick, Slezar used the momentum to throw himself into a roll. Jumping back up to his feet he slashed, claws extended. T'Parief blocked the blow with one arm, the jolt staggering him even as his father's claws slicked through scales, drawing blood.  
Now he was mad.  
With a flurry of punches, T'Parief threw Slezar on the defensive. Twisting around, he delivered a roundhouse kick to Slezars left knee, sending him to the ground.  
"I see Starfleet hasn't entirely neutered you after all!" Slezar snapped, climbing back to his feet with a noticeable limp.  
"Indeed!" T'Parief snarled, throwing himself at Slezar, knocking both to the ground.  
"GOT IT!" K'Eleese cackled, "Come, honey! Our destiny awaits!"  
"I am not finished!" Slezar snarled, throwing T'Parief off him and jumping to his feet.  
"Stop wasting your time with him! We have work to do!"  
With lightening speed, Slezar grabbed a padd from his pocked and hurtled it straight at T'Parief's head. The security officer dodged, but the diversion bought Slezar and K'Eleese enough time to jump onto the transporter pad.  
"You were adequate offspring," Slezar declared, "My best wishes to you."  
The two dematerialized.

Yanick, Jall, Porter and T'Parief boarded the runabout Asessippi, ready to depart Nisus. The rest of the vacation had been mostly eaten up with security reports and police interviews, explaining just what had happened. With the identification of the culprit behind the kidnapping, the Operations Convention had resumed, much to Jall's disappointment. Klexish had embraced Yanick and given her the recipe to Gorn Spider Souffle, assuring her that it would drive T'Parief wild. Despite Yanick's concern, the older woman assured her that she would cope with her husband's departure.  
It was only minutes after Yanick finished putting the runabout on autopilot that T'Parief called her into the aft cabin.  
"What's up honey?" she asked. T'Parief was seated as the table, a dented padd in one hand.  
"I wanted to talk to…somebody," T'Parief said softly.  
"Oh. OK." Yanick waited.  
After a moment of silence, T'Parief help up the padd.  
"My father threw this at me," he said finally, "I thought it was just a random padd, until I took a look at what was on it."  
"His secret files?" Yanick asked.  
"No."  
"Oh."  
"The password to the secret files on our home computer," T'Parief said.  
"Same thing!"  
"They talk a lot about…Project Triad."  
Yanick was quiet.  
"And?" she asked.  
"Project Triad," T'Parief explained, "was the name given to the research project that determined how to allow my parents to give birth to me."  
"Oh, cool!" Yanick exclaimed, "but doesn't that happen all the time on Nisus?"  
"It does," T'Parief agreed, "My conception was particularly difficult because my mother is a mammal and my father a reptile. I had assumed that was the reason for the special project. But if that is the case, why did my father keep those files locked? And why would K'Eleese have any interest in them?"  
"San told us that he told her he wanted to finish his work," Yanick pointed out.  
"But it was finished!" T'Parief exclaimed, "Here I am!"  
"Maybe there was something he wasn't telling you," Yanick suggested.  
T'Parief looked blankly at Yanick, fighting the urge to point out that he had just spent the past 5 minutes trying to imply just that.  
"That must be it," he said instead.  
"Well," Yanick said, "Maybe there is one good thing,"  
"Yes?"  
"If you've got the files from the scientists who helped your mom and dad have you, maybe Dr. Wowryk can use them to fix your little…problem."  
"Problem?"  
"Y'know, the way you lock up like a rusty bolt any time we try to have sex!"  
T'Parief flushed dark green.  
"We can always hope."

Captain's Log, Supplemental.  
"Ensign Yanick, Lt. Cmdr. T'Parief and Lt. Jall have returned from their excursion to Nisus, along with an unexpected guest. We're proceeding to rendezvous with the U.S.S. Wayward which will be transporting Lt. Porter back to Waystation. Dr. Wowryk reports that neither Jall nor Porter show any side effects from their imprisonment, and that the unpleasant memories K'Eleese forced them to experience will fade quickly.  
"As per Starfleet's orders, we will not be sending anybody after K'Eleese. May seem strange to let a criminally insane lunatic like her go loose, but from what we've learned from Porter, it would just be too dangerous to go after her."

"There was no way I could risk her getting dragging us back into another Happyverse mess," Porter said as Stafford and Jall escorted him to the transporter room, "So I lied,"  
"I thought she injected you with truth serum," Stafford asked.  
"She did. But her and Slezar were going at it for quite a while. It must have been wearing off."  
"So which universe did she go to?"  
"Damned if I know," Porter shrugged, "She could be in the Crabbyverse for all I know. Or the Universe of Peace and Love. Or the universe without women."  
"You're making that up," Stafford said, a pleading tone in his voice, "Please tell me you're making that up!"  
"Of course I am," Porter chuckled, "If there is a universe without women, I don't want to know about it!"  
They reached the transporter room. Porter's eye flicked briefly to the 'Use at own Risk' sign hanging near the transporter pads.  
"Should I be worried?" he asked.  
"Has this crew ever given you any trouble?" Jall asked with a smirk.  
Porter gulped.  
"It's just there for legal reasons," Stafford assured him, "Pay it no mind. Ship's been in great shape.  
"She's definitely looking better then she did the last time I saw her."  
"Thanks dear," Sylvia cut it, causing Porter to jump, "It's nice of you to say so."  
"Don't ask," Stafford sighed, "Mr. Pysternzyks, is the Wayward ready?"  
"Yes," the Andorian officer hissed.  
"Oh, sorry to hear about your break-up," Porter said as he stepped on the pad.  
"Breakup?" Stafford asked, eyebrow raised.  
"Yeah. But, y'know, your Chief of Security found a nice girl. Maybe you will to."  
Stafford was still too stunned to reply as Porter dematerialized.

"It sure is good to be home," Yanick said happily, sipping a strawberry milkshake in Unbalanced Equations. T'Parief was on his second mug of blood wine, still brooding over his father's betrayal, and Noel was seated across the table, immersed in Slezar's Project Triad files. Steven was experimenting with different atmospheres; he'd used the holo-emitters Jeffery had installed in the lounge for Fifebee to give the illusion that the big windows looking out into space actually looked out at a beautiful river valley.  
"Asessippi River," Steven had said proudly when Yanick had commented, "Y'know, cuz of the runabout and all…"  
"TRISH!"  
Yanick turned to see Stafford stomping towards her.  
"Hiya Captain-"  
"Don't you 'Hiya Captain' me!" Stafford snapped, "Why does Captain Beck's Science and Operations Officer think that I was dating your boyfriend?"  
"Ohh…." Yanick said softly, "Well, Beck came to see me, well, see you, when I was in your body, and I kinda…sorta…said I was dating T'Parief. She must have thought you were-""  
"SON OF A BITCH!" Stafford snapped, storming back out of the room.  
T'Parief and Wowryk stared at Trish.  
"It was an accident," she grumbled.  
"It would be very sinful for the Chris and T'Parief to date," Wowryk said calmly.  
"Let's just not go there," T'Parief grumbled firmly.  
Jeffery approached the table.  
"Simon!" Wowryk exclaimed, "Where have you been! 3 days go by, I don't hear a thing, nobody will tell me where you are! What's gotten into you?"  
Simon said nothing.  
"Well, no matter," Wowryk decided, "Now please go get me a cup of tea and some biscuits," she turned back to her padd.  
"No," Jeffery said.  
"I beg your pardon?" Wowryk asked, frowning.  
"Ah said get it yerself!" Jeffery gulped, then bolted for the door.  
There was a click, then San Jall eased into view from where he had been ducked behind a support pillar.  
"Stafford gave me tomorrow off if I caught Wowryk's face on camera," he chucked. He turned the holo-imager so everybody could see the preview panel, where Wowryk's face was frozen in an image of complete shock, "Betcha I can talk him into two days off for-"  
He never even saw Wowryk throw the punch that knocked him out cold.  
"It's so nice that everything is getting back to normal," Yanick said tiredly.

End

Next, on Silverado: It's baby boomer time! Who are the babies? Who's having them? Is it possible to have children without the sex? Find out next time on Star Traks, Silverado: 'Birthing Pains'!


	10. Birthing Pains

Copyright 2005

Star Traks: Silverado

2.10 "Birthing Pains"

"MOVE! MOVE! EVERYBODY OUT! WE'VE GOT A CODE 23-B, REPEAT, CODE 23-BRAVO!" Lieutenant Stern snapped as Silverado's Alpha Security Squad, also known as "The Hazardous Team', grabbed their equipment and bolted from the squad room.  
Crewman Keklar was first out the door after Stern, his face locked in the standard 'Klingon Snarl', his long shaggy hair pulled back in a (relatively) neat ponytail. Right behind him was Ensign Dar'ugal, the headless, furred 7-foot tall Barudan having to duck to keep his shoulders from banging against the doorframe. On Dar'ugal's heels was Ensign Marsden, the tall skinny human grabbing onto the squad room doorframe and using it to swing himself out into the corridor. Ensign Simmons brought up the rear.  
The team approached the turbolift, Stern waiting by the doors as the squad squeezed in.  
"Deck 8" Stern ordered. The lift jerked to motion, hummed for a couple of seconds, then jerked to a stop. The doors opened with a hiss. The squad immediately rushed out, moving quickly down the corridor. Deck 8 was in Silverado's saucer section and had a layout somewhat similar to that of a dartboard. Two ring-shaped corridors circled the deck while several corridors ran from the outer edge of the saucer towards the center, somewhat like spokes on a bicycle wheel. The turbolift had deposited the security team near the core of the saucer. Stern led the team towards the nearest ring corridor. After quickly glancing in both directions, he motioned them forward. Their goal was almost in sight! Stern could see the doors to Sickbay not 10 feet away. 5 feet…2 feet. Before Stern could key the doors open, they swished open to reveal the tall, scowling face of Lt. Cmdr. T'Parief.  
"What do you think you are doing?" he snapped.  
"We heard that…well, it's happening!" Mardsen said nervously, "And, y'know, that we were needed…"  
"You are correct," T'Parief nodded, "It is indeed happening. But did you think Dr. Wowryk would allow the entire security squad into Sickbay? Or that Mrs. Rengs would want her husband's buddies watching the entire event?"  
"But-" Simmons objected.  
"No buts," T'Parief said firmly, "It was difficult enough to get Dr. Wowryk to allow this in the first place. Ensign Rengs has requested that Lieutenant Stern and Ensign Marsdon assist him with the ceremony."  
"But-"  
"The rest of us," T'Parief continued, in a tone that didn't invite argument, "will return to our stations until our duty shifts end, at which point we can wait there," T'Parief pointed to the doors immediately opposite the entrance to Sickbay, beyond which was a small lounge/waiting room.  
"Equipment check!" T'Parief barked.  
"Gong, check sir!" Stern snapped, coming to attention.  
"Maracas, check sir!" Marsden said, following suite.  
"They're not Maracas!" Simmons smirked, "They're 300 year old Bajoran shaker sticks-"  
"Just go," T'Parief grunted, pushing Simmons towards the turbolift. He turned to Stern and Marsden, "You two, get in there!"  
"Aye sir!"

The main diagnostic area of Sickbay was dark and quiet. The bio-beds along the wall were empty; there hadn't been a medical emergency in days. Most of the doctors and nurses assigned to Silverado where elsewhere, either off duty or performing research in one of the ships half-dozen or so science labs. Only Nurse Kerry, Nurse Veeneman and Dr. Wowryk remained. On the central diagnostic bed lay Rengs Meris, her husband, Rengs Aris was fidgeting nervously in his seat. Madam Schoonbaert was seated next to Aris, padd in hand.  
Dr. Wowryk had flatly refused to participate in the ceremony surrounding the delivery of the Bajoran couple's baby, citing religious objections. The Bajorans believed the Prophets of the Celestial Temple were their gods. It was a big boost to their faith that the 'Celestial Temple' really existed, although there was considerable debate over the issue. Captain Benjamin Sisko had discovered the galaxy's only known stable wormhole in the Bajoran system, which the Bajorans believed was actually their Celestial Temple. The wormhole was a gateway to the distant Gamma Quadrant, but was also home to unusual alien lifeforms that lived outside of time and space. Whether or not those beings could be called gods was an issue that theologists across the galaxy continued to debate. But to the Bajorans they were the Prophets, and that was good enough for them. For Noel Wowryk, they were NOT God, they were NOT Jesus and anybody who would break the first Commandment by worshiping alien beings before the Holy Trinity should burn in Hell.  
Fortunately, Nurse Kerry was more then qualified to deliver the baby. Mostly qualified. Kind of qualified.  
"OK," Nurse Veeneman said softly to Marsden and Stern, "You, with the gong thingy, sit here. You with the shaker thingies, you sit here. When Madam Schoonbaert finishes reading a line from that Bajoran holy book thingy, you shake the sticks. When he's finished, the other you needs to ring the gong, but gently! The whole point of this silly Bajoran ceremony is to create a calm, relaxing environment for Meris to give birth."  
"Is there going to be blood and screaming?" Marsden asked very quietly, "Cuz I'm really not good with that kind of thing."  
"Why the hell are you in Security then?" Stern demanded.  
"Quiet, both of you!" Veeneman hissed, "Calm and relaxing, remember? And no, Bajoran births are usually easy and painless. If the woman is properly calmed and relaxed."  
"Oh, that's a relief." The two men moved towards their seats.  
"Um, no," Veeneman stopped them, guiding them away from the foot of the table and around the head, deciding that the last thing Aris needed was a pair of his Security buddies catching a glance at his wife's lower regions, "Let's go this way instead."  
"Can we get started, please?" Meris asked calmly, her hands resting on her swollen belly.  
"Yes, yes, of course," Nurse Kerry fluttered around for a padd, "This would be so much easier if we had an actual Bajoran Vedek or Prylar or something on board," she muttered.  
"Perhaps some soothing music would be nice?" Sylvia asked eagerly.  
"That's not part of the ritual," Aris objected.  
"Fine, fine," Sylvia huffed, "Just trying to help."  
Everybody looked at Nurse Kerry expectantly.  
"Right, right," she muttered, thumbing through the padd, "Let's see, seat stick shaker and gong ringer near the head of the patient on the right side, with the husband at the patient's right hand. Refer to page 5 illustration E," Kerry frowned, "K, we've already done that. Elevate patient's legs to expose the va…the va…" she looked around at the men in the room, "The, er, birth orifice," she finally said, blushing slightly."  
"We've all seen one before," Stern muttered.  
"And we've got much better nicknames then 'birth orifice'," Mardsen smirked. Stern elbowed him in the side.  
"Refer to page 6, illustration G," Kerry muttered to herself.  
Aris and Meris exchanged worried glances while Wowryk threw her hands up in disgust and marched back to her office.

T'Parief drummed his claws along the armrest in the lounge across from Sickbay. Yanick sat on his lap while the other members of Alpha Squad, AKA 'The Hazardous Team', milled about the room, raiding the replicator and flipping channels on the vid-screen.  
"It isn't even our baby," T'Parief grumbled, "Why do we care?"  
"Because any birth is a reason to celebrate!" Yanick said with a grin, "And it's-"  
"The first baby born on Silverado," everybody finished together.  
"Like we haven't heard that a million times over the past month," Simmons said.  
"One of my fellow warriors is having a child," Keklar said firmly, "It is a reason to celebrate! His wife will give birth to a proud young warrior who will carry on his family name and bring glory to his house!"  
"Or she'll give birth to a wimp who'll spend the rest of his or her life playing with dolls," Simmons pointed out.  
"Rengs is a fine officer," T'Parief jumped in, "I have no doubt his spawn, um, child," he corrected, "will be someone to be proud of."

Lieutenant Jane 5-B hunched over an oblong object in Science Lab One. The object in question was an alien pod that Silverado had found several months ago while orbiting Tantulus V, right before the lunatic K'Eleese had escaped. With the ensuing search and chaos, it had been some time before Fifebee was able to study the mysterious artifact. The pod itself was almost two meters long and shaped like a tic-tac. Alien symbols traced a path over the reddish surface of the pod.  
Fifebee had detected a faint seam in the metal, obviously the pod was meant to open. Sensors were also able to detect a stasis field; whatever was inside the pod was in the equivalent of suspended animation. As such, it didn't matter whether she opened the pod now or 300 years from now; the contents would be undisturbed.  
"Sylvia, could you please use a modulated tetryon beam to scan the pod?"  
Silence.  
"Sylvia?"  
"Sorry dear," Sylvia's voice came back after a longer than usual delay, "I'll get on that, estimated time to completion is one hour and thirty-six minutes,"  
Fifebee frowned. Such a scan usually took minutes, not hours. Also, Sylvia was sounding very mechanical; her voice was closer to that of the ship's original computer rather than the life-like, matronly speech patterns the Silverado crew had become accustomed to. It was almost like the mechanical woman was…distracted?  
"Sylvia!" Fifebee snapped, realization dawning on her, "The Sickbay staff is perfectly capable of delivering the baby! I suggest you concentrate on your work!"  
"But the baby-"  
"Is in good hands," Fifebee cut Sylvia off, "I would estimate that monitoring of Sickbay should only consume 0.02 % of your processing capabilities."  
"You're no fun," Sylvia grumped as she initiated the scan.  
"I don't see what all the fuss is about," Fifebee muttered, "Babies are miniature humanoids that have not yet learned to clean up after themselves."  
"Each one is a fragile new life," Sylvia said wistfully, "With the potential to do anything he, she or it wants. Each child is a precious gift."  
"No wonder Captain Stafford was such a mother's boy," Fifebee said thoughtfully, "Still, there are more efficient ways of reproducing the species. Cloning, for example."  
"Cloning takes all the fun out of it," Sylvia said.  
"We shall see how much 'fun' the Rengs' have when they're waking up 4 times a night for feedings."

"We welcome new life into the world," Madam Schoonbaert read from her padd, "We rejoice in the miracle of birth,"  
After a short pause Marsden shook the shaker sticks, making a sound like a pair of Maracas. Once he finished, Stern gently tapped the small gong.  
Meris let out a contented sigh. She felt so calm…so relaxed…  
"Is she leaking?" Marsden asked.  
Meris' relaxation dissolved as she bit back a retort. The next contraction hit not with a calm pressure, as had the previous ones, but with a sharp pain in her abdomen.  
"Shut UP, Marsden!" Nurse Kerry snapped, "SHE NEEDS TO RELAX!"  
"So do you," Marsden muttered.  
"Birth is a time of awakening," Schoonbaert read on, trying to get things going again.  
Slowly, as Stern rang the gong, Meris found herself relaxing again.  
Dilation should be between 4 and 6 centimeters, Nurse Kerry read silently from her padd, Refer to page 13, illustration 11 C, She made a face, looked down at the business end of the delivery bed, then back at the padd again, then shrugged.  
"Looks about right," she muttered softly.  
"Pardon?" Aris asked.  
"Nothing," Kerry said quickly. Kerry had been a bit nervous when she had asked to delivery the Rengs' baby. Her medical training qualified her for the procedure and she had in fact delivered a pair of healthy twins on her last posting. She'd never delivered a Bajoran baby before though and wanted to be sure she got it right. Fortunately, Dr. Wowryk had agreed that she would assist in the event of complications or an emergency. That agreement was the only reason why nobody had put up a fuss when Wowryk suggested that Kerry deliver the baby. Nobody really wanted to get on her bad side if it wasn't really necessary. Still, some, like Stafford, had been made very uncomfortable by Wowryk's decision.  
"We welcome new life, in the name of the Prophets," Schoonbaert read.  
Marsden rattled the shaking stick.  
Stern rang the gong.  
Wowryk prayed for God to smite the heretics from her Sickbay.

Stafford squeezed his way into the small lounge across from Sickbay. The place was packed! Half the Security department was crammed into the small space along with people he vaguely recognized as being part of Silverado's civilian support staff. He recognized a teacher's aid, a botanist and the guy who cleaned the pool. Obviously the Rengs' had been making friends during their stay.  
Pushing past Ensign Bith, Stafford made his way to where Yanick was seated on T'Parief's lap.  
"Any news?" he asked.  
"Not really," Yanick shrugged, "Sylvia's keeping an eye on things, but she's not allowed to tell us what's happening. Patient confidentiality or something like that."  
"Oh,"  
"But," T'Parief grumbled, "When I asked for Dr. Wowryk's location, Sylvia informed that she is in her office."  
"So?" Stafford scratched his head.  
"If Dr. Wowryk is in her office," T'Parief explained, "she is not assisting with the birth. We know that she refused to participate in the birthing ritual unless there was a risk to the mother or infant. Logically, if she is in her office she is not assisting with the birth and we can conclude that there have been no complications."  
"Good thinking," Stafford nodded, impressed.  
"He's such a smart guy!" Yanick cooed, rubbing her fingers over T'Parief's head, right behind the cranial ridges. T'Parief let out a sound Stafford could have sworn was a purr before catching himself.  
"Have I missed anything?"  
Yanick looked behind Stafford to see the tall, slim form of Commander Noonan. The First Officer's face was animated by a broad grin, his pale skin slightly flushed.  
"No, you haven't," Stafford said, giving Noonan a wary look, "Just an impressive display of logic that would put a Vulcan to shame."  
"Ensign Yanick explaining organic fertilizer again?"  
Stafford's comeback died on his lips as the doors opened and everybody quieted down. Ensign Rengs Aris was standing in the door, looking shaken.  
"Aris!" exclaimed Simmons.  
"What is it?" demanded Yanick.  
"What news?" asked Noonan.  
"It's…it's" Aris stuttered.  
"Out with it!" cried Sylvia.  
"IT'S A BOY!"

"Little bastard," Wowryk muttered.  
SMACK!  
"Trish!" Wowryk held a hand to her face in shock, "You hit me!"  
Yanick and Wowryk were standing near the window in Unbalanced Equations. True to Silverado tradition, the successful birth of the Rengs baby had prompted an evening bash. Unbalanced Equations was full of officers and crewman laughing, chatting or even dancing on the small dance floor in the back corner. Steven was kept busy mixing drinks and setting out snacks as fast as the replicators could produce them.  
"Don't dish it out if you can't take it!" Yanick fumed at Wowryk, "And how could you say that about an innocent little baby? He's adorable!"  
"You haven't seen him yet!"  
"So?"  
"He had…he had a…dear Lord, I can't even say it," Wowryk covered her eyes.  
"Mole?"  
"No!"  
"Birthmark?  
"No!"  
"Extra nipple?"  
"HE HAD A PENIS!" Wowryk shrieked. All conversation in Unbalanced Equations came to a screeching halt as everyone turned to stare at her. Wowryk blushed bright red as Yanick pulled her into a corner booth.  
"Of course he did!" Yanick hissed, "All baby boys do!"  
"It was awful!" Wowryk said, tears forming, "I could see it through my office window. The birth was beautiful! I could see that tiny new life breaking free! And then…and then…" Wowryk shuddered, "Like watching an angel come from heaven, only you realize at the last moment that his wings are dark as ash, his legs are those of a goat and he comes in fact from the DEPTHS OF HELL!"  
"He's a beautiful, healthy baby," Yanick said firmly.  
"Who will grow up to be a man, with evil thoughts of carnal pleasure!"  
"Well," Yanick scratched her head, "Maybe in another 18 years or so. Not exactly something to panic about," she was quiet for a moment, "You do realize that Aris and Meris had sex to conceive him, right?"  
Wowryk shuddered.  
"Filthy!" she said softly.  
"Noel, you've got a problem!" Yanick said eyes wide, "How can you say that!"  
"According to the Church, sex is an evil, evil sin!" Wowryk exclaimed, "I say that because it's true and it's what's required by my faith!"  
"No, that's not it," Yanick said, "Last time I checked, the Catholic Church said that sex was a sin UNLESS it was for the purpose of procreation. And you just said that it was disgusting that Aris and Meris had sex to conceive a baby!"  
Wowryk said nothing, just looked down at the table.  
"You're against sex period!" Yanick realized, "It has nothing to do with religion! You're just using God as something to hide behind!"  
"I refuse to listen to this, this garbage!" Wowryk snapped, getting up to leave.  
"Wait!" Yanick grabbed her by the arm, "Noel, you need to talk to somebody about this!"  
"There is nothing to talk about," Wowryk said coldly, "There's nothing wrong with me. If the rest of you want to live in sin, go right ahead. Now if you'll excuse me…" She pulled free of Yanick and stalked right out of the lounge, ignoring the happy celebration all around her.  
Sighing, Yanick leaned her head on the table.  
"Looks like she's having a good time,"  
Yanick looked up to see Stafford.  
"Does she ever?" Yanick muttered.  
"She used to have fun slapping Jeffery around," Stafford smiled, "Until he went and grew a spine, that is."  
"I'm worried about her," Yanick admitted, "She was cranky enough when Jeffery started standing up for himself. This whole baby thing, I think it might push her over the edge."  
Stafford straightened up.  
"Is this something that could affect her performance as a member of the crew?"  
"It already did," Yanick pointed out, "She should have delivered that baby,"  
"But she had religious objections-" Stafford started.  
"It's not about religion!" Yanick cut him off, "It's something else. I think she's terrified of anything having to do with sex…babies included!"  
"You don't think," Stafford gulped, the looked quickly around and lowered his voice, "You don't think somebody, um, did something to her? Y'know, in an illegal touching kind of way?"  
"What? Oh, no! NO!" Yanick said, "There is NO way something like that could have happened to her! It's impossible! If a medical scan didn't pick something up at the time her Starfleet Psyche Test results would have."  
"They didn't pick this up," Stafford pointed out, "Although I doubt they look for, um, sexophobia?"  
"I don't think this is the result of anything anybody has done to her," Yanick said, "Not intentionally anyway. I think that growing up on a Catholic Colony where sex is considered a sin, well, she just took that mindset to an extreme. I mean, I respect her beliefs, but when you're scared of babies, you have a bit of a problem. This goes beyond anything they would have taught her,"  
"Scary," Stafford muttered.  
"And enough about that!" Sylvia chimed in, "We've got a fresh new baby on board! You should be celebrating! Worry about that old grouch later."  
"Good advice," Yanick nodded, "I need to get drunk."  
"Have fun," Stafford smiled. But Wowryk stuck in the back of his mind.

"It's very exciting," Noonan said enthusiastically to Steven as he sipped his drink, "A bright new life has come into existence! A new start! A chance for…" Noonan trailed off, "Steven, are you all right?"  
Indeed, Steven had looked better, He had dark bags under his eyes, his hair was a mess and his usually crisp civilian wear was rumpled.  
"It's been a busy week," Steven muttered as he mixed up something Noonan couldn't identify.  
"When's the last time you had a vacation?" Noonan asked.  
"Um, right before I came on board," Steven replied.  
"What?" Noonan was surprised, "We've been in space for over a year and a half!"  
"I know," Steven said defensively, "but this crew hasn't really given me the chance to take much time off!"  
"I guess not," Noonan mused as Steven moved down the bar to deliver the drink to a Terelian crewman further down the bar.

"You've been awfully tense tonight," Yanick said, after she and T'Parief had left the party and returned to Yanick's quarters. T'Parief sat on the edge of the couch, Yanick sliding behind the hulking officer and starting to rub his shoulders, "Take your shirt off,"  
"Huh?" T'Parief started.  
"I'm going to give you a back rub," Yanick announced, "it works better if you take your shirt off first,"  
"Yeah," T'Parief stuttered, "But we've never, you, know…"  
"Pari," Yanick crossed her arms, "We've been going out for almost a year now. I think we can move past our 'mandatory uniform' rule."  
"Uh, right," T'Parief said, peeling off his tunic, treating Yanick to an impressive display of physique. Well, OK, it was green and scaled physique, with a funny little ridge running along his spine right from his cranial ridges down to his tail, but Yanick was still impressed.  
"Sylvia," Yanick ordered the replicator, "One bottle of Gorn massage grease, mild formula, please." The requested bottle materialized. Yanick squeezed some of the thick goop out and started rubbing it into T'Parief's scales. T'Parief grunted, feeling himself start to relax. But one part of his mind stayed sharp: Yanick must have a reason for doing this, and based on current events, he had a pretty good idea what that reason might be.  
Unknown to T'Parief, while Yanick's right hand started massaging his neck, the left hand had slipped under one cushion, pulling out what any fan of medieval movies would recognize as a mace. A simple ball attached to a handle, this mace was dotted with blunt spikes.  
Careful not to make a sound, Yanick raised the mace high over her head, preparing to bring it crashing down on the unsuspecting Security Chief.

Fifebee bent over her panel in Science Lab One, reviewing the results of the scan.  
"Isn't it time you went to bed?" Sylvia asked with a yawn.  
"I don't sleep," Fifebee said calmly, "Neither do you,"  
"That's not really true," Sylvia said, "Every now and then I like to let the computer's automated functions take over while I take a bit of a rest."  
"That's closer to meditation than actual sleep," Fifebee pointed out, "Your 'body', the ship, continues to function normally rather then going into hiberna-"  
"Forget it," Sylvia groaned, "I just meant that you've been working on this pod all day. Don't you want a break? Maybe a snack?"  
"I have been looking forward to studying this artifact for the past several weeks," Fifebee explained, not bothering to point out that she didn't eat, "I have time to do it now, so I'm going to do it now!"  
"You don't have to be such a bitch about it,"  
Fifebee frowned, but didn't say anything.  
Deciding that the science officer really WAS being a bitch, Sylvia let the internal sensors in the Science Lab fall into standby mode. They would alert the computer (and her) to any requests made to the computer system, but she was no longer 'paying attention' to what was happening in the room. If she had been, she would have noticed Fifebee tapping excitedly on her panel.  
"This is interesting," Fifebee said, half to Sylvia (who wasn't listening anyway) and half to herself, "There's definitely a life form inside. Also, the pod is emitting a phased tachyon pulse every 4.8 minutes. It's almost like it's waiting for a response. Perhaps if I send a return pulse…"

Yanick brought the mace down hard on T'Parief's back without warning, striking the security chief hard again and again. THWACK THWACK THWACK  
"Uuuggghhhhhh…." T'Parief moaned, "By Glornx Trish, where did you learn how to do that?" THWACK  
"An article in the Gorn Gazette," Yanick gasped, panting as she struck T'Parief again on the left shoulder, prompting a groan, "It said this is more effective then a massage. Something about how Gorn hides are so thick it's hard to effectively massage the muscle. I checked with Noel, she said this would still work on you, even though you're only half Gorn." THWACK  
"And she approved it?" T'Parief sighed, tongue hanging out of his mouth, "Even though it would end up with me half-naked on your couch?"THWACK  
"Are we having sex?"THWACK  
"Well, no."THWACK  
"There you go,"THWUMP "OK, my arms are officially too tired," Yanick dropped the mace to the floor, rubbing her aching arms.  
T'Parief walked into the bathroom, used a towel to quickly wipe off the massage goop then returned.  
"I somehow sense that you didn't bring me back here just for a back rub," T'Parief said softly as he sat next to Yanick.  
"Can't fool you, huh?" Yanick asked with a nervous smile, "It's probably obvious. With a new baby on the ship, I've kinda been wondering what it would be like to have one of my own,"  
"Trish," T'Parief said carefully, "I really care for you, and want to keep seeing you, but do you really think we're ready for-"  
"NO! Silly!" Yanick gave him a swat, "Not NOW! I mean, we haven't even figured out how to, y'know, do it yet, never mind actually making a baby while we're…y'know…doing it. But I can't help but wonder what it would be like to hear the pitter-patter of little feet. Or maybe claws. But all that stuff you said when your dad ran out, y'know, how Gorn don't mate for life…" she trailed off.  
"Trish," T'Parief said firmly, "I'm NOT Gorn! I'm part Klingon and part Andorian too. And those parts DO mate for life!"  
"And is 'for life' something that you want?"  
"Yes. Eventually,"  
"Good enough," Yanick smiled.  
"Dr. Wowryk has been studying the Project Triad files we brought back from Nisus," T'Parief said, "They have more detailed information on my anatomy. She can use those to find a way for us to…y'know."  
"She's barely even had time to look at those yet. But there's no rush," Yanick assured him, "Although I'd really like to know why your father would take that stuff with him when he ran off with K'Eleese. I mean, all that project did was let your mom and dad have you, right?"  
"Yes," T'Parief nodded, "Perhaps he wishes to have a child with K'Eleese.  
Both Trish and T'Parief shuddered at the thought.  
"So it's settled then," Yanick said finally, "I can wonder what it would be like to have a baby, but you can stop being terrified that I'm going to try to get pregnant."  
"Agreed."  
Silence again.  
"Wanna make out for a while?" T'Parief asked.  
"Okie!"

"Did ye enjoy the party?" Jeffery asked Noel as she stormed into his quarters.  
"I did not!" Wowryk snapped, going straight to the food replicator and ordering a cup of chamomile tea. Jeffery had skipped the party. He didn't really know Rengs, and Admiral Grant had requested a report on Silverado's status from an engineering standpoint. Turns out that some of the other ships that had been reconditioned by Operation Salvage had been having some mechanical problems and now the number crunchers wanted to know what kind of problems Silverado had had since launch. Jeffery had already listed almost a thousand glitches and malfunctions that had occurred in the past year and half and he'd be up half the night finishing up.  
"Why not?" Jeffery asked.  
"Everybody was fawning over how wonderful it was that a new baby had been born," Wowryk huffed, sitting on the couch next to Jeffery, spine ramrod straight.  
"And?" Jeffery asked, "Must have been something besides that to get ye all worked up."  
"None of your business!" Wowryk snapped.  
"OK," Jeffery shrugged, turning back to his padd.  
"Jeffery, rub my shoulders," Wowryk said crisply after a moment.  
"Huh?" Jeffery was shocked. Rub her shoulders? As in touch her? "Um, OK,"  
Nervously, Jeffery took up position behind Wowryk and gently started to massage her shoulders and the back of her neck. Her shoulders felt small and very tense. Slowly though, she was relaxing. She let out a long breath and even leaned back a bit. Jeffery instantly jumped to Yellow Alert: there was actual physical contact! Gulping, he lifted his elbows so he could continue rubbing her shoulders while Noel leaned back against him.  
Guys, put yourselves in Jeffery's situation. His beautiful yet frigid girlfriend had, for some reason, suddenly allowed him to touch her. This beautiful, unattainable woman was practically in his arms. What do you think would happen?  
What happened was an instinctive and involuntary male response. One that Noel noticed quickly.  
"That's disgusting!" she shrieked as she jumped off the couch, "Of all the sickening, primitive male things to do-"  
"What do ye mean, 'disgusting'?" Jeffery demanded, more than a little hurt.  
"You were getting excited!" Wowryk accused.  
"Of course Ah was!" Jeffery snapped back, "What did ye think would happen? I'm not a eunuch, ye know!"  
"Just wait," Wowryk said haughtily.  
Jeffery was speechless.  
"Get out," he finally said.  
"What?"  
"Ah said get out," Jeffery said, feeling strangely calm. It was a feeling he recognized, the same feeling he'd had when he'd told the holographic Madam that he didn't need to take her abuse, "If that's the way yer gonna treat to me, then leave. Ah think Ah've been pretty understanding, but if yer going to threaten my manhood, well…" Jeffery trailed off.  
"Fine then!" Wowryk snapped, storming out the door.

It was amazing, Stafford mused to himself, how much things could change overnight.  
Seated at the head of the conference room table, Stafford had a clear view of all of his officers. And clearly something was up.  
To his left, Commander Noonan was looking more alive then he had in weeks. Stafford couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Noonan just looked more…human. Stafford doubted anybody else would notice, Noonan was somehow able to prevent most people from dwelling on his appearance. Only Stafford seemed to notice anything, and that was only because Noonan had overused that particular trick on him. Fifebee sat to his right, or maybe squirmed was better. The holographic officer was clearly excited about something. Next down the table were Yanick and T'Parief, looking deeply into each other's eyes as they waited for the meeting to begin. Sylvia had discreetly displayed the readings from the room's internal sensors on Stafford's padd; Yanick and T'Parief were clearly playing footsie under the table. The slightly distant way they had been treating each other since the Nisus trip was gone. At the opposite end of the love spectrum, Jeffery and Wowryk were looking anywhere except at each other. Stafford took a slightly guilty pleasure in noticing that Wowryk especially looked ready to snap. Jall was twiddling his thumbs at the end of the table, oblivious to whatever had happened.  
"OK, lets get this out of the way the," Stafford said, getting the meeting started, "Sylvia, please start recording meeting highlights for the ships log,"  
"Acknowledged," replied the crisp mechanical tones.  
"And pay more attention to us and less to the Rengs' baby!  
"Grouch," Sylvia muttered, the mechanical voice replaced by the more natural sound of Sylvia's voice.  
"Ok," Stafford went on, "We've been ordered to report to Starbase 298 to pick up a shipment of isomorphic crystals and to deliver said crystals to Coga 5. We're already on course, courtesy of the night shift, and should be there in 2 days."  
Going around the table, each officer reported on highlights of the previous days activities and plans for today, mostly amounting to 'not much', except for Jeffery who just said that if anybody wanted a full list of problems that Engineering had to deal with that they could bloody well download it themselves.  
Finally, it was Fifebee's turn.  
"I believe I have figured out how to open the alien pod!" she announced proudly.  
Everybody looked blankly at her.  
"The alien pod we've been carrying around for the past several months?" Fifebee tried again.  
Blank stares.  
"The one we picked up at Tantulus V?" Fifebee rose out of her seat, gripping the edge of the table.  
"Wait," Jeffery frowned, "Ye mean that big thing that Burke ran me over with? Y'know, when you were…"  
"A duck?" Jall finished.  
"Yes," Fifebee said flatly, "That would be it."  
"Cool," Stafford shrugged, "What was in it?"  
"We don't know for sure," Fifebee said, clenching her teeth, "I just figured out how to open it!"  
"Oh."  
"I have detected a life form in suspended animation inside," Fifebee went on, collecting her decorum and sitting back down.  
Noonan cocked his head.  
"Dangerous?" he asked.  
"I don't know!" Fifebee said, speaking as though to a child as cranial ridges slowly started sprouting from her forehead, "I HAVEN'T OPENED THE POD YET!"  
"I see," Noonan nodded, "You were perhaps waiting for input from the Captain and myself?"  
"I was actually waiting for the Lollipop Guild to make their recommendations," Fifebee said dryly, electing a chuckle from Noonan and a disapproving frown from Stafford.  
"Munchkinland aside," Stafford cut in, "What risk is there in opening the pod?"  
"Biological contamination," Wowryk said at once with a pointed glance at Jeffery, "Microbes, bacteria-"  
"A penis?" Yanick cut in, glaring at Wowryk.  
"Oh, that's mature!" Wowryk snapped angrily as Stafford winced.  
"There is no sign of any radiation," Fifebee cut in smoothly before the situation could escalate, "I suggest we open the pod in a level 3 containment field until we determine exactly what is inside."  
"Make it a high security forcefield and you've got yourself a deal," Stafford said.  
"Captain," Fifebee pointed out, "Starfleet procedure calls for a level 3-"  
"I know," Stafford interrupted, "But how many ships have had huge problems because they didn't bother to take 2 extra seconds to press the 'high security' button?"  
Fifebee nodded.  
"Your point is made, sir."  
"Great," Stafford stood, "Fifebee, open the pod. Dr. Wowryk and Nurse Kerry will be on hand to assess any medical risks; Mr. Parief will be there in case of a security risk. I'll go too, because I damn well feel like it. Mr. Noonan, you have the conn. Everybody else, active duty stations. Wowryk, Jeffery, a word in my ready room please." Stafford left the conference room, strode through the Silverado main bridge, where Lieutenant Ovens was sitting in the command chair, trying to look as imposing as his slightly overtired appearance allowed. Yanick and Jall quickly took their posts as Wowryk and Jeffery followed Stafford into the ready room.  
"50 bucks says this won't be pretty," Jall said softly to Yanick.

Stafford made himself comfortable behind his desk as Wowryk and Jeffery fidgeted in front of him. His completed model of Silverado sat on his desk, tiny lights shining, engine nacelles glowing with a soft blue light. The only sign of his little glue accident was a smudged fingerprint he couldn't entirely clean off the port nacelle.  
"What's the deal," he finally asked.  
"Our personal lives are none of your concern," Wowryk immediately replied, her tone somewhere between frosty and glacier ice.  
"When it impacts your performance it sure as hell does!" Stafford snapped, "You're both senior officers on this ship! Even if you start to loathe and despise each other, I expect you to be able to perform your duties in a professional manner!"  
"My duties haven't been impacted," Jeffery said nervously.  
"No, not yet. I'm being proactive," Stafford replied.  
"Is this about that damned baby?" Wowryk asked, "Because that-"  
"Was different. Religious objections, I'm sure," Stafford said, giving her a doubtful look, "Except I've had a crew member or two telling me that it was something else. Now, I want to know what happened. Now."  
"I don't have to put up with this!" Wowryk huffed, marching towards the door-  
And banging into the closed panels.  
"Sorry," Stafford said, grim faced, "But it so happens that Sylvia agrees with me on this one. There's a problem here, and you need to sort it out."  
"Uh, Chris," Jeffery finally spoke up, "It's great that ye wanna help and all, but yer really not the kinda guy who can help her with this."  
Stafford was quiet for a moment.  
"You're absolutely right," he said finally, "Stafford to Yvonnokoff,"  
"Jas?"  
"Dr. Wowryk and Mr. Jeffery will be scheduling an appointment with you, ASAP please, Doctor."  
"Jas, sir,"  
"And doctor?"  
"Jas?"  
"This is mandatory. Send security after them if you have to."  
"Um, OK. By the vay, vould you care to book a session to vork through your feelings of hostility-""  
"Stafford out," Stafford turned back to his best friend and his least favorite doctor, "I knew I kept that quack around for a reason. Now, I don't care if you break up, get married or have a kid for that matter, just get some issues resolved!" he gave a small grin, "It's for your own good."

"I can't believe that bastard," Wowryk muttered in the turbolift as she and Jeffery rode down, "Forcing us into therapy!"  
Jeffery said nothing.  
"You don't actually think we need therapy. Do you?" she demanded.  
"I think you do," Jeffery said softly.  
Wowryk's mouth opened and closed like a fish for several seconds.  
"Why?" she finally asked.  
"Sex," Jeffery said. Wowryk jumped back like she'd been slapped.  
"Question asked, question answered," Jeffery said.  
The turbolift arrived on Deck 8 and Sickbay. Wowryk stepped out leaving Jeffery alone.

Less than an hour later, T'Parief, Stafford, Fifebee and Wowryk gathered in Science Lab One, standing around the strange alien pod. The security field shimmered faintly as Fifebee manipulated the controls.  
"I'm using a tachyon pulse to establish a link with the pods computer circuitry. The pod is emitting a pulse every 4.8 minutes. The pulse seems to be a request for instructions. By tying in the universal translate and scanning the command pathways in the pods computer circuits, I should be able to generate an 'open' command."  
"Go nuts," Stafford shrugged.  
Fifebee tapped for several more minutes.  
"I am now opening the pod."  
The pod itself was motionless for several seconds. Then, with a slight hiss, a panel on the upper surface of the pod slid smoothly open.  
"That was easy," Stafford said.  
"Actually, it was very difficult and involved-"  
"You're a genius," Stafford interrupted before the hologram could start spouting techno-babble,"  
"I'm detecting one life sign," Wowryk said, tapping her medical tricorder, "There's an active sterile field and I'm not detecting any micro-organisms at all."  
"Still no sign of any radiation or other dangerous emissions," Fifebee reported.  
Silence.  
"T'Parief?" Stafford prodded.  
"If there was a security risk," the large officer said, "I would be in the middle of a fight already."  
"Point taken. But a simple 'no security risks as of yet' would be great. Y'know, for future reference and all that."  
"Aye sir,"  
"Well, let's take a look," Fifebee said, moving through the security field and looking inside the pod. One eyebrow rose.  
"Dr. Wowryk, your assistance please."  
"I can't walk through forcefields," Wowryk said flatly.  
"Right," Fifebee said absently, eyes not leaving the pod, "I knew that."  
T'Parief deactivated the field. Wowryk stepped closer to the pod, leaned over, looked into the small chamber inside and saw-"  
"For crying out loud!" she snapped, crossing her arms, "not ANOTHER one!"  
"What? What is it?" Stafford demanded.  
Fifebee reached into the pod and pulled out a small, detachable seat. Curled up inside was a baby, looking to be maybe a year or two old.  
"He's adorable!" Nurse Kerry said, "Look at his cute little flight suit! That's so clever!"  
Indeed, the baby was wearing a silvery suit with tiny vital sign readouts on the front.  
"He's waking up!" Fifebee smiled, unstrapping the little explorer from his seat, "Now that he's outside of the stasis field. I wonder what he's doing in here?"  
"Maybe he's the last survivor of an alien race," Stafford said, "Shot into space to save him from a global catastrophe."  
"Ridiculous!" Wowryk said, shaking her head, "You need more than one specimen to…ugh… preserve the species. There's no point in sending only one!"  
"It worked for Superman," Stafford muttered.  
The baby opened his eyes and looked around, taking in the different faces around him. He immediately started trashing his limbs and babbling.  
"Gag? Ick selkid blaaagh?'  
"Perhaps he is a tyrannical Overlord," T'Parief mused, "Exiled as punishment for his crimes."  
"Oh, please," Kerry said, trying to shush the squealing infant, "He's an innocent little baby."  
"Who's been drifting in space for God knows how long," Stafford mused, "He's going to need somebody to take care of him."  
"Maybe Ensign Yanick?" Nurse Kerry suggested, "She seems like she'd be good with…kids…" Kerry trailed off as she saw the dark look on T'Parief's face, "Or not."  
"RAKLE AAAGGHH UN!"  
"Noisy little fella," Stafford chuckled.  
"He's healthy," Wowryk said, closing her medical tricorder, "Just upset. Can I go now?"  
"No," Stafford said, rubbing his chin.

Meanwhile…

I slowly came to my senses, my limbs slightly numb from an unknown amount of time trapped in this blasted pod. My last memory was that of Letharis, my archenemy, giving one of his stupid speeches about justice and liberty as the hatch on my prison pod slid shut. Damn him! Sending me to an 'alien penal colony' to be 'rehabilitated'. How dare he!  
"He's waking up!" I nearly vomited from the nausea as I was lifted from my seat. "Now that he's outside of the stasis field. I wonder what he's doing in here?"  
"Maybe he's the last survivor of an alien race," somebody said, "Shot into space to save him from a global catastrophe."  
"Ridiculous!" came another voice said, female, "You need more than one specimen to…ugh… preserve the species. There's no point in sending only one!""  
"It worked for Superman," the male voice muttered.  
I opened my eyes and looked around. Giants! 5 of them! Three appeared to be female, one male and the fifth…well, I have no idea what it was. And huge! Each was 6 times my own size! What monstrous place had I been sent to? And they were using…linguistic communication? How primitive. I immediately attempted to escape from the female holding me, but it was useless. I was rendered powerless by her strength. I attempted to shout audibly, but my species has gone for millennia without verbal communication; my mouth has all the speaking abilities of my posterior orifice.  
/I am High Master Stalart, Ruler of Arcania!/ I broadcasted in thought-speak, /Bow before me and despair!/  
"Perhaps he is a tyrannical Overlord," the hideous creature mused, "Exiled as punishment for his crimes."  
"Oh, please," one female said, making foolish 'cooing' sounds, likely in an attempt to silence me "He's an innocent little baby."  
"Who's been drifting in space for God knows how long," the male said, "He's going to need somebody to take care of him."  
I tried to broadcast again as a horrible realization dawned on me. They couldn't hear me! They were so pathetically primitive that their brains were incompatible with my own telephathy! Such a thing was known to happen, but this was the most awful of luck. What's more, they had mistaken me for one of their young! How repulsive!  
"Maybe Ensign Yanick?" the blond female suggested, "She seems like she'd be good with…kids…" she trailed off as the creature started to glare at her "Or not."  
"I AM NOT AN INFANT!" I tried to scream in their simple language, the sounds being horribly distorted by my useless mouth.  
"Noisy little fella," the male chuckled.  
"He's healthy," the rather attractive female said, closing her medical tricorder, "Just upset, can I go now?"  
"No," the male rubbed his chin.

"OK," Stafford said, clapping his hands together as he paced Yvonnokoff's office, "We all know why we're here."  
"Actually," Eva Yvonnokoff, ship's counselor said in her crisp tones, "I don't. Vhy are ve here?"  
"Ve are here," Stafford said, "because the Doctor here has a problem, her boyfriend is concerned about her, and you're the ship's shrink."  
"I see," Yvonnokoff nodded, "And vhy are you here?"  
"Because I have an idea that might help."  
"Very vell," Yvonnokoff shifted to look at Wowryk," Dr. Wowryk, vhat is bozering you?"  
Wowryk took a deep breath.  
"I have problems with sex," she said finally. She was quiet for a moment, then, "Well, that was easier than I thought,"  
"It is an excellent first step," Yvonnokoff assured her, tapping away on her padd, "Now-"  
"Look," Stafford cut it, "I wanna give you my idea, then get the hell out of your private session."  
"Fine," Yvonnokoff crossed her arms and leaned back, "Vhat is your brilliant idea?"  
"Doc, you have a sex problem," Stafford said, walking around the edge of Yvonnokoff's office, "Sex, body parts, babies, all that stuff. I think you'll agree that the best thing to do is get you comfortable with the whole 'procreation' thing, after which your own beliefs can take over."  
"Yes, that would be all right," Wowryk answered, surprised not only at Stafford's sensitivity to her beliefs, but also that he cared at all.  
"Great. Well, it just so happens what we have an adorable little alien baby in need of a mommy-"  
"ARE YE KIDDING?" Jeffery gasped, "You want us to ADOPT that thing?"  
"Ze idea is sound," Yvonnokoff nodded, "It vould aid greatly in Dr. Wowryk's therapy, and vould be an excellent character-building experience for yourself as vell."  
"My character is fine," Jeffery objected, "It doesn't need any renovations."  
"I'll do it," Wowryk said, then turned to Jeffery, "We'll do it."  
"Ye can't make this decision for me, Noel," Jeffery said firmly.  
"You're right," Wowryk answered, "I can't."  
"What's in this for me?"  
"If I can get," Wowryk swallowed, "more…comfortable…with the idea of physical intimacy, you could get a lot out of it."  
Jeffery's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.  
"I do find you attractive," Wowryk admitted, "And I tried – yesterday – to have some normal, non-sexual contact. But I'm scared of, of what it might mean."  
"I'll do it," Jeffery said slowly, "But only until we find his real home!"  
"Fair enough," Stafford said, heading for the door, "My work here is done."  
"Captain," Wowryk called out.  
"Yes?"  
"Two things. First, thank you. Second, if you mention any of this conversation to anybody, you'll find your next Sickbay visit will involve an impressive array of invasive medical instruments that can be very, very unpleasant."  
Stafforg gulped.  
"Yes ma'am,"

Captain's Log, Stardate 57732.6  
"We've docked with Starbase 298 to pick up a shipment of isomorphic crystals. We're doing everything by the book; it would be really nice to visit at least ONE starbase without making asses of ourselves. Y'know, blowing stuff up, causing riots, fighting with constructions crews and whatnot."

I, High Master Stalart of Arcania slowly looked over the edge of the crib I'd been placed in. Sickbay was relatively empty; Dr. Wowryk was off on some errand while the nurses were in the medical lab going over my medical report.  
Looking around once more to be sure I wasn't being watched, I pulled myself over the edge of the crib and dropped soundlessly to the floor. Moving as quickly as my little legs could carry me, I slipped into Wowryk's office.  
/Lornk these giants and their gigantic furniture!/ I fumed as I pulled myself up into Wowryk's chair, then from there onto the table. It only took a few taps for me to figure out how to use the computer panel and to pull up the ship's layout.  
/Hmmm, we're docked at some kind of permanent facility,/ I thought to myself, /If I can escape this hell-hole, I can find a transport back to my homeworld and continue my reign of terror!"  
Excited, I jumped off the chair and ran for the door.

The alien ship was big. Very big.  
Of course, had it been built to my scale, it would have been about the same size as one of our Dominator-class battleships. But considering the comparative sizes between these aliens and an Arcanian, well, this ship was really quite large.  
I padded down the hall, cursing the little 'footie' pajamas I'd been forced to wear, with every step. Twice I had to hide behind support beams to prevent passing crewman from spotting me.  
I knew that I was on Deck 8 of the saucer section. From the schematics I had accessed, I knew that the closest entry point to the space station we had docked at was 4 decks below me, on Deck 12. I immediately started looking for a…oh, what did they call it? A turbolift!  
Though reading the signs was somewhat difficult, due to the signs being several feet over my head and in an alien language, I managed to quickly find my way to the lift. I entered, and looked around for a control panel.  
There it was! Curses! Far out of reach! I jumped, but to no avail; I couldn't reach it!  
"Level please," chimed the ship's computer.  
/DECK 10!/ I screamed in thought-speak. Of course, the primitive machine couldn't understand me!  
I quickly exited the lift and ran down the corridor, ducking into an access hatch to avoid being seen by a rather unattractive blue-skinned creature. What luck! A ladder, leading further down into the ship!  
Climbing carefully from rung to rung, it took me close to 15 time-ticks to descend the four decks. I climbed out, and started padding down the brightly lit, cream and silver corridors.  
"Do we REALLY need to tie up an entire starship just to deliver a box of rocks?"  
I ducked behind a support beam as a tall, dark haired being walked by, a short female with blond hair next to him.  
"Oh, c'mon Jall! It's a milk run!" she said.  
"I did NOT join Starfleet to be a delivery boy!"  
"Me neither. So what? C'mon, let's go buy shoes," the blond giggled, "that always cheers me up!"  
"Well, if you insist. But they have GOT to be at least CLOSE to fashionable this time!"  
/Well,/ I thought to myself, /She's a ditz and he's not fooling anybody! Escaping from these people will be easier than I thought!/  
I followed close behind the pair, in the hopes that anybody observing would believe me to be with them. We quickly arrived at the airlock; I could see the passage to freedom!  
Before I could follow my pair of dull-witted guides, the airlock doors hissed shut! I spun around, only to see the inner doors closing as well.  
I was trapped!  
"Now what are you doing in here, sweetie?"  
It was the voice from the turbolift!  
"You really shouldn't be playing in here," the voice went on, "it could be dangerous! I'll just beam you right back to Sickbay, where you'll be save and sound."  
/NOOOO!/

Captain's Log, Supplemental:  
We've departed the Starbase, cargo loaded and wallets empty. Please note that Lieutenant Jall has violated Starfleet dress code…again. I just can't get it through his head that he needs to wear Starfleet issue boots on the bridge, no matter how 'fashionable' his Grexen originals are!  
Our little passenger turns out to be quite the adventurer! Sylvia found him playing in one of the airlocks! Good thing she noticed, or God knows where he might have wound up. I guess with all these babies on board it pays to have a computer with a mother's personality.

"We've reprogrammed the doors on the ship to ignore any being below a certain height," Fifebee explained to Wowryk as the two prepared to move the baby to Wowryk's quarters, "And the consoles in your quarters and in Sickbay will lock automatically when you're finished with them. Last thing we need is a baby in a plasma conduit."  
"I'll be keep an eye on him too," Syliva added.  
/Oh, 'keeping an eye on me' hmmm? I swear, you mechanical devil-woman, for every day I spent in this prison, I will destroy one of your data processing units!/  
"Now remember," Fifebee said, just a hint of disdain in her voice, "Replicator formula 24-G and don't try solid foods until you're sure he's ready for them. He will need to be bathed daily and he likes it if you rub his back after meals."  
"I didn't realize your personality database included pediatrics," Dr. Wowryk said uneasily as she and Jeffery stood near the alien baby's crib in sickbay.  
/I am NOT one of your wretched young, dammit!/ Stalart thought-spoke, though of course nobody could 'hear' him, /I refuse to submit to this treatment!/  
"He looks a little cranky," Jeffery said, as the 'infant' screamed and flailed his arms in the air.  
"Once I understood the nature of our visitor, I did the appropriate research and uploaded pediatric care into my database," Fifebee replied, "Have you thought of a name for him?"  
"A name?"  
"Well, yes. We can't just keep calling him 'the alien baby'."  
"Ah vote for Jimmy," Jeffery said.  
"I'd suggest 'John'," Fifebee added.  
"No," Noel said, "I'll call him Luke, after the Apostle Luke,"  
/I am High Master Stalart! Master of Arcania! Release me immediately!/  
"Pick him up," Fifebee suggested, "He needs comforting."  
"Uh, right," Wowryk swallowed, then reached down into the crib to pick up the small creature.

As 'Noel' reached down to clutch me in her alien grip, I tried to evade her grasp. Failing, I could do nothing but protest as she lifted me into the air.  
"Little Luke," she said, a faint smile on her face, "Well, I guess you're not that bad after all. Give, um, give mommy a hug,"  
/You are not my 'mommy' you alien bitch!/ I cried out, /I will…not…oh, that's nice…/  
Noel had hugged me close, bringing me into contact with a giant, but pleasantly firm bosom.  
/Oh my…/  
"I think he likes you," Fifebee said with a smile.  
"Awww," Wowryk sighed, patting Luke on the back.  
Resting as I was against this supple creature, all I could think was that perhaps living with this alien would be tolerable, at least until another opportunity for escape presented itself…

End


	11. Rise of the Machine

Star Traks: Silverado

2.11 "Rise of the Machine"

"Harry," Eva said patiently, forcing her face into a concerned expression, "vhat you are doing is not healthy. I urge you to seek proper psychiatric care."  
"C'mon Vonna," Harry objected, "I'm sure lots of people do it!"  
"Harry, I don't zink its physically possible for most people to dislocate a joint at will. In ziz case, I agree vith your wife. You should stop ziz."  
"If you say so, Dr. Vonna," Harry sighed.  
"My pleasure," Yvonnokoff smiled as she fixed her gaze on her producer, Crewman Gibson, as he sat in his booth, feet propped up on his console, "Bart, who is our last caller?"  
"Uh, we've got Candy on Channel 4. Huh huh…candy…"  
"Yeah, that was SUCH a witty alias!" 'Candy' snapped over the channel.  
"Now, 'Candy,' Yvonnokoff stifled a grin, "Ve are here to help you. Vhat are you having trouble with?"  
"It's my new baby," Candy complained.  
"He keeps you up all night?" Eva ventured.  
"Well, only sometimes-"  
"Is he teething? If so, you may want to stop breast feeding, as your nip-"  
"I'm not breast feeding!" Candy snapped. Gibson chucked silently in his sound-proof booth and mouthed the word 'breast' to himself.  
"Zen vhat is he doing?" Eva demanded.  
"He's peeing on my computer consoles!"  
Yvonnokoff frowned. Not because she was confused, but because she was pretty sure she could smell acrid smoke wafting into her studio. She looked straight into her holocam.  
"Vell," she began, holding back a cough, "You vill be glad to know that he is unlikely to electrocute himself, as liquid breaks up when released in such a manner and vill not carry an electric current," she took a sip of water, then looked into Gibson's booth, narrowing her eyes slightly. Gibson was sitting there, looking back innocently. As Eva turned back to the holo-cam, he quickly snuck a pull from a joint he'd hidden beneath his console.  
"I know he can't get electrocuted!" Candy was saying, "But he's making a mess, and shorting out my computers! How do I make him stop?"  
Eva coughed quietly into her hand. That smell…  
"Bart," Eva said, glaring at Gibson through the screen, "Vhat do you think?"  
Gibson, a panicked look in his eyes, shook his head.  
"Please Mr. Gibson," Eva went on, "I am interested to hear your learned opinion."  
"Well," Gibson said, expelling a cloud of smoke.  
"Zank you," Eva cut him off, "Zat is all I needed to know. Candy, I vould suggest Thuggies Security Diapers. Zey are designed for Klingon babies, but you can get human versions vithout ze built-in sandpaper at your local Dillon's Supply Depot. If your toddler cannot remove his diaper, he cannot pee on your computers."  
"Thanks Vonna," there was a click as 'Candy' signed off.  
"And zat concludes our show for today," Yvonnokoff said, smiling at the camera, "Up next, ve have Joan Redding vith ze evenings news," Eva stabbed the cut-off button on her console and pointed a finger at Gibson, "And you, you little shvit, if I ever catch you smoking up on ze job again, I shall…vhy eez the on-air light still on?"

Noel Wowryk chuckled to herself as Yvonnokoff's rant was cut off by the opening theme of the AWN News. Her chuckle faded to a sigh as she heard a crash from the living area in her quarters.  
"You might wanna check up on him," Silvia called from the comm.  
"Luke," Wowryk said tiredly, "you better not have…you did. You broke mommy's vase. Again."  
/For the hundredth time, you are not my 'mommy', you alien bitch!/ screamed the baby-like Lord Stalart of Arcania, /I was unsuccessful in destroying the mechanical woman who controls this ship, but I will not be defeated!"  
Wowryk mentally counted to 20 as 'Luke' finished his screaming fit, unaware of the telepathic message her 'primitive human brain' failed to intercept.  
"Come here, child," she said, picking up Luke and patting him on the back.  
If sex led to babies, and babies led to headaches like the one she had now then wasn't she justified in thinking that sex was evil?

"TREE! TREE! SIMON, TURN LEFT!" Stafford screamed  
CRASH!  
Stafford used his heels to dig his snowboard into the powdery surface of the ski slope, sliding to a stop less than two feet away from Jeffery's crumpled form.  
"You didn't turn left," Stafford complained, reaching out a gloved hand to help Jeffery up. The two of them were in Holodeck 1, one of the larger holodecks on the ship. Steven had arranged for a Rocky Mountains Ski Getaway as a way to break the monotony of Silverado's current mapping mission.  
"Uggghhh…"  
Or perhaps as a way to break a few crew members.  
"C'mon buddy, up and at 'em!" Stafford snapped, hauling Jeffery to his feet, "I know you can do this-"  
"If only ah could learn to turn!" Jeffery finished, pushing back his goggles to rub his eyes.  
"I really don't see how this snowboarding thing can be fun," Silvia stated, materializing in the holodeck as a cheery faced woman with curly brown hair, "You slide at high speed down a hill, crashing into every tree, bush and female skier on the way down. If I didn't have the safety protocols engaged, Jeffery would have two black eyes, a concussion, a broken nose, a fractured tailbone-"  
"This is not helping," Jeffery complained.  
"C'mon Sylvia," Stafford said cheerfully, "Don't you feel a rush when you're flying through space at warp 9.2, dodging asteroids and evading bad guys?"  
"Not really. Mostly I feel pissed off that you got me into that kind of situation to being with."  
"Oh," Stafford frowned, "Well, I guess that kinda kills the neat little analogy I was gonna make."  
"It's this whole going sideways thing," Jeffery went on, "Ah mean, when yer piloting a shuttle, do you go sideways? Nay! Ye go straight. This sideways snowboard thing is unnatural."  
"You were the one who wanted to come with me!" Stafford shot back.  
"Aye, well, that's because if Ah have to spend one more minute with that little terror I'd go batty!"  
"C'mon", Stafford said, tightening the bindings on his board, "He can't be that bad. He's like, two years old!"  
"He's shorted out every computer console in Noel's quarters. Do ye have any idea how scary she is when she gets angry? Or much fried baby-pee stinks?"  
"Yes." Stafford replied simply, "C'mon, let's get to the chalet and check out some ski-bunnies. Maybe that will make you happy-"  
CRASH!  
Jeffery jumped back, catching his board on the snow and falling on his backside as a large blur slammed into Stafford, crushing the Captain into the snow.  
"PARI! OH MY GOD!"  
Ensign Yanick slid to a stop, her skies throwing powdery white snow right into Jeffery's face.  
"Pari, are you OK?" she asked, crouching over T'Parief as he blew snow out of his nostrils.  
"I think I landed on a rock," the gargantuan officer gasped as he pulled himself up off the ground.  
"That's nay a rock!" Jeffery wheezed, flinching as cold, wet snow slid down his parka, "That's the Captain!"  
"Uh-oh…"

"Idiotic, foolish, juvenile-"  
"At least this is a step up from 'sinful and blasphemous'!"  
"Don't start with me! I've got a hypospray that could give you explosive diarrhea for the next week! If you could ever get that six-foot pole out of your ass first, that is!"  
"Not getting much sleep, are we?"  
"Stop shouting!" Stafford croaked, the voices around him finally becoming too much. He could feel pain, everywhere. Especially in his chest, but also his head, legs and arms. Deep, throbbing pain.  
"Oh, you're awake," Stafford's vision cleared to show Dr. Noel Wowryk standing next to his bio-bed, her beauty only slightly marred by the previously mentioned lack of sleep.  
"Glad to see you're still with us," smiled Matt Noonan, First Officer, "You had us worried there for a moment."  
"I feel like I've been hit by a truck," Stafford groaned.  
"You were!" Noonan chirped, "His name was T'Parief."  
"Nuff said,"  
"4 broken ribs, a punctured lung, dislocated shoulder, your left arm was broken in 3 places," Wowryk trailed off, "Well, you were a wreck. I've seen corpses in better shape."  
"Thanks," Stafford said dryly, "So are you planning on FIXING ME anytime soon?"  
"Oh, you're all done," Wowryk said.  
"Then why do I feel like I should just roll over and die!?"  
Wowryk bit her lip as the obvious 'because you should' tried to fight its way loose, instead saying, "You're all fixed up. Some of your nerve endings are just a bit raw. The pain will fade."  
"Painkillers, please?"  
Wowryk sighed.  
"We've been over this," she said peevishly, "Painkillers-"  
"Take away a reminder that God saved him from death. And the pain means he's more likely not to make the same mistake again," Noonan recited, as though from a book, "Doctor, please."  
"Oh, all right," Wowryk sighed, moving to the supply table.  
"Hey little guy!" Noonan smiled, reaching down to pick up Luke, who had been pacing back and forth, "How ya doin'?"  
/I will kill you very slowly, you pale-faced freak!/ fumed Luke, AKA Lord Stalart.  
Noonan winced.  
"You OK?" Stafford asked.  
"Just a slight headache," Noonan said, looking slightly confused.  
"I thought," Stafford glanced quickly to confirm that Noel was out of earshot, then lowered his voice, "I mean, I didn't think somebody like you would get headaches."  
"This is the first one," Noonan admitted, "But it's probably nothing."  
Wowryk returned with the hypospray and injected Stafford with the drug. The pain immediately started to fade.  
"Thanks Doc," Stafford grinned, climbing off the bio-bed.  
"We're not done yet," Noel said coolly.  
"We're not?"  
"No," Wowryk led Stafford to the large diagnostic monitor that took up most of the wall next to the main bio-bed, "Look at this."  
Stafford tried to make sense of the readouts. It looked like his body, only kinda inside out.  
"What about it?"  
"I've compared your current readings from the readings taken during your physical last year," Wowryk explained, "Your muscle tone is slipping, your body-fat percentage is up and the oxygen-transport efficiency of your circulatory system has dropped 5 percent."  
"So, I'm out of shape?"  
"Big time."  
"So I'll start working out again," Stafford shrugged, "No biggie."  
"Not good enough," Wowryk snapped, pulling out an isolinear chip, "You shouldn't have stopped in the first place! A starship captain needs to be in top physical shape!"  
"I was busy!" Stafford objected.  
"That's no excuse!"  
"Unfortunately," Noonan added, "The doctor is right."  
"Why are you still here?" Stafford snapped, "Go...do bridge stuff! I'm fine!"  
"As you wish," Noonan withdrew.  
"I've prepared a workout program for you," Wowryk continued, "And it's mandatory. Doctor's orders," she handed him the chip.  
"Uh, right," Stafford said, turning the chip over in his hands.  
"Just slip the chip into the robo-trainer and he'll get you setup."  
"Robo-trainer?" Stafford asked.  
"Yeah," Wowryk said, quickly pulling Luke away from a lab counter on which corrosive venom samples from a Xinax 4 sea serpent were waiting to by analyzed.  
/CRUD! And I was SOO close!/  
"Jeffery found him when he was refurbishing the gymnasium equipment last month," Wowryk went on, "He's not very smart, basically a walking computer, but he does the job. Of course, if we had a motivated crew we'd have somebody teaching classes. Or, if this were a MODERN ship, we'd have an exercise hologram to…" Wowryk trailed off. Stafford had apparently bolted when she had turned to pick Luke up.  
/At least SOMEBODY can thwart you, bitch!/ Luke thought-spoke triumphantly.  
Wowryk smiled to herself.  
"I guess this means he'll have to find out about 'mandatory workout mode' the hard way," she muttered.

Captain's Log: Stardate 57854.2  
"Big rock. Will investigate. Bored silly."  
First Officer's Log: Stardate 57854.2  
Addendum to Captain's Log  
"I believe that Captain Stafford meant to say that we are continuing with our mapping mission in sector 461-B as ordered. The recent string of uninhabitable planets has had a definite impact on crew morale and it's not uncommon to find somebody in the science labs playing 'Solitare' or "Andorian Ritual Rampage' rather then studying their sensor readings. 3 crewmen have been put on report. Fortunately the holodecks and Steven have been working hard to keep everybody entertained. Recommend extra vacation time to be allocated to Steven and the staff of Unbalanced Equations."  
"We have detected a planet in the Yonge-Éclair system that may contain life and are changing course to investigate."  
"May way was more succinct," Stafford complained.  
"Maybe so," Noonan said softly, "But Starfleet wants details."  
"Yeah, that's why we send all our sensor records in on a regular basis."  
"Touché," Noonan acknowledged, then proceeded to stare at Stafford.  
Stafford squirmed in his seat.  
"I am the Captain! I'll do my logs the way I want, and if Starfleet has a problem they can take it up with me!" he said stubbornly, crossing his arms.  
Noonan continue to stare.  
"Stop looking at me!"  
Noonan didn't blink. In fact, he didn't move at all. To Stafford, it was like looking at a statue carved in flesh. He couldn't even tell if Noonan was alive or dead, just that he was sitting there staring and it was FREAKING HIM OUT!  
"OK! OK!" Stafford cried out, "You're right! I know! Just cut that out!"  
Noonan said nothing, merely smiling to himself as Stafford started to re-record his log.  
"We're almost at the planet!" Trish Yanick called from the helm, "Want me to slow down, or can I try that planetary slingshot thingy I read out in Helmsman Monthy?"  
"Slow us down, please," Stafford said, "I'd rather not vomit all over the floor. Not that there's any vomit left in me after your boyfriend squeezed most of my internal organs and bodily fluids out all over the slopes of Fernie like squishing a bug on the pavement!"  
"It was an accident," T'Parief said softly from the Tactical station.  
"It was almost a catastrophe!" Stafford shot back.  
"Snowboarding is very difficult," T'Parief objected, "moving sidewise down a hill just doesn't make sense,"  
"You were the one who said that skis were for sissies!" Yanick giggled from the helm.  
"Hey," Jall objected, "I was wearing skis!"  
"Case in point," stated T'Parief.  
"Sensor readings coming in on the planet," Fifebee interrupted, "Class M, mostly forests and grasslands. No signs of intelligent life-"  
"-we could say that about this bridge," Stafford muttered.  
"-however there are abundant animal life signs, both on the surface and beneath the ocean," Fifebee went on, "Strange, I'm picking up energy readings."  
"Ooo, really?" Stafford jumped up, excited and moved quickly over to Fifebee's station, "Wow, look at the amplitude variance of the emissions!"  
Silence hovered over the bridge as everybody turned to stare at Stafford. Slowly, he became aware of the attention.  
"What?" he asked, "Oh come on! I'm a Starfleet officer and a Captain! I do know a thing or two about this kind of thing. And I got curious about energy anomalies after that whole Matrian thing."  
Yanick and Jall exchanged glances and shrugged while Noonan laughed quietly into his palm.  
"You people suck," Stafford sighed, "C'mon Fifebee, get your holo-relay. Let's go take a look. Noonan, you have the conn,"  
Fifebee nodded, rose and walked to the turbolift.  
"T'Parief, take the conn," Noonan commanded, following Stafford into the turbolift.  
"Captain," Noonan said as soon as the doors closed, "Do you think leaving the ship at this time is a good idea?"  
"Why not?" Stafford shrugged.  
"You're still recovering from serious injuries," Noonan pointed out, "It would be best if you remained here to recover while I aid Lieutenant Fifebee."  
Stafford regarded his First Officer for a moment.  
"You're right," Stafford admitted, "It wouldn't be very smart of me to go running around an alien planet with half of my innards bruised. Sylvia, redirect turbolift to the Deck 11 Gymnasium, please."  
"Are you sure wouldn't rather have a nice hot soak?" Sylvia asked, "I can have the tub in your quarters full by the time you get there,"  
"After my workout, maybe," Stafford said as the lift doors opened, "have fun on the planet, you two," he stepped out and disappeared down the corridor.  
"He acquiesced too easily," Fifebee stated.  
"Do you think so?" Noonan asked.  
"I think Dr. Wowryk got him in a soft spot when she told him he was out of shape," Sylvia cut in, "Chris never did like it when people made fun of his body."  
Fifebee grinned mischievously,  
"I'm just going to file that away for future reference," she said.  
"Play nice," Noonan admonished as they stepped out of the turbolift and walked towards Transporter Room 1.

When Stafford had made his clandestine escape from sickbay, Wowrk had failed to notice that he had left his workout chip sitting on the supply cart. However, somebody else DID notice.  
/Well, fortune smiles,/ Stalart thought to himself as he climbed up the side of the supply cart, stubby fingers groping for the chip and tucking it in a pocket,/I can use this 'robo-trainer' to be sure that the Captain never again poses a threat to me! MWA-HA-HA-HA-URK!"  
"Luke! What did I tell you about playing with medical equipment?" Wowryk scolded, holding the 'infant' face to face, "I swear, Kerry, this little twerp is going to be the end of me!"  
/I bet I could do a better quadruple heart bypass that you could!/  
"Here," Wowrk plunked Luke into a playpen she'd erected in her office, "Now play nice with your toys! Mommy has some sacramental wine she needs to visit.  
/I'm driving her to drink!/ Stalart realized, then smiled, /Excellent!/  
Once Wowryk had gone her way, Stalart quickly opened up his 'My Little Catholic' church play set, pulling out a padd he'd swiped from Nurse Veeneman. All the consoles in Sickbay, Wowryk's quarters and the Rengs' quarters had been set to lock automatically when not in use, and only authorized persons could unlock them. The goal was to prevent innocent little baby fingers from accidentally flooding the room with banana custard or otherwise causing chaos. The result was a lot of pissed off nurses who would realize that they'd been typing for 3 minutes without having anything appear on the screen. The result was also a very annoyed little Lord Stalart, who found himself quite unable to infiltrate the networks of 'the mechanical bitch', AKA Sylvia.  
The padds on the other hand, had no such constraints.  
Slipping Stafford's workout program into the reader slot, Stalart started programming.

"Good morning, Commander," Ensign Pysterzykz hissed as Noonan and Fifebee walked into the transporter, "Off to explore a new planet, attempting to bring honor and glory to your families?"  
"I have no family," Noonan and Fifebee said together.  
"No matter," the Andorian muttered, pulling absently on on antennae, "There's nobody down there to kill, so what are the odds of winning glory?"  
"Just prepare to beam us down, please," Noonan ordered. He pulled his tiny protective field emitter out of a pocket and affixed it to his arm, then proceeded to slather a goopy cream over his exposed skin.  
"What is that?" Fifebee asked.  
"Sun block," Noonan replied as he took his place on the transporter padd next to Fifebee's hovering holo-relay.  
Pysternzykz ran his fingers down the sliders on the transporter panel, then yelped as sparks shot from the equipment behind him.  
"Engineering to Transporter Room 1," snapped the intercom, "We're picking up a power drain down there, what's going on?"  
"Stand by!" Pysternzykz snapped, running his fingers over the controls. Something was interfering with the annular confinement beam, putting anybody in transporter transit at risk of having their molecules spread across the planet. Fifebee wouldn't mind; her program was safe in Silverado's computer core. Noonan however, would probably object. Pysterzykz boosted power, recycling the transporter beam to preserve the pattern. Frowning, he noticed that several of the circuits in the transporter emitter he was using had shorted out. Silverado had multiple transporter emitters placed around the outer hull, the plan being that at least two should always be available to transport to or from another object, regardless of where that object was in relation to the ship. The Andorian immediately tried to boost power to the undamaged circuits before the beam could fail.  
"They're stuck halfway between the ship and the planet!" he called up to the bridge, "I'm getting feedback on the transporter circuits! The emitter is too badly damaged to complete the transport!"  
"Well rematerialize them somewhere!" Jeffery snapped.  
Pysternzykz grunted, then shifted the signal to a different emitter. The move was risky, like changing television channels in the middle of taping your favorite program. The transporter hummed, dimming the lights slightly as it sucked more power, then reported the results to Pysternzykz.  
"Transport successful," the Andorian gasped in relief.  
"Thanks God," Jeffery agreed, "Any damage to the system?"  
"Well, just a fried emitter-" Pysternykz was cut off as the entire transporter stage erupted into sparks, wisps of smoke rising from below the deckplates where the pattern buffer was located.  
Ducking his head until the mechanical carnage ended, Pysternzykz whistled.  
"Yes. There has been damage to the transporter system."

Noonan staggered as he rematerialized on the planet surface, nearly losing his footing. Next to him, Fifebee flickered wildly before the emitters on her holo-relay stabilized.  
"Well, that was very unpleasant," Noonan grunted, tapping his comm-badge, "Noonan to Silverado. What happened?"  
"Something broke," came Stafford's hurried reply.  
Noonan and Fifebee exchanged glaces.  
"Hardly a rare occurrence on our vessel," Fifebee said dryly.  
"OK, there was some kind of energy drain," Stafford came back on the line, "it started leeching the transporter beam. The emitters tried to compensate and burnt out. Apparently you're really lucky to be in less than two billion pieces."  
"Thrilling," Noonan murmured, "Can you beam us back up?"  
"Well, about that," Stafford paused, "The transporter is kinda toast at the moment. We can send a shuttle."  
"Perhaps later," Noonan suggested, "We may as well do what we're here to do."  
"Good thinking Number One," Stafford agreed, "Hmm, I don't think I've ever called you-"  
Noonan cut the channel.  
"He talks to himself far too much," he said, pulling out his tricorder.  
"Yes, well," Fifebee did likewise, "If he can have conversations with himself, the rest of us needn't speak with him."  
Noonan chuckled.  
"Was that a joke, or just you being a bitch?" he asked.  
"Wouldn't you like to know!" Fifebee giggled. The two of them walked up a slight rise, careful not to step on the rocks scattered along the ground. The planet was pleasant, in Noonan's view. They'd materialized in the foothills of a large mountain, which Noonan found to be rather odd, as their destination had been temperate grasslands. Possible the transporter malfunction had pulled them off target. Either way, it really didn't matter much to Noonan; the strange energy patterns were-  
Noonan's world spun briefly as he collapsed to the ground.

Stafford crept slowly into Sickbay.  
It hadn't taken long to realize he'd forgotten his workout chip, and even less time to realize that Wowryk would nag him about it far more than Sylvia, with her bio-neural circuitry, redundant processor cores and massive linguistic database, ever could. He was reminded of another auburn-haired, bitchy doctor that had been a guest speaker at one of his Academy classes. He couldn't remember her real name, just the nickname Jeffery had given her: Ball-Crusher. Taking a moment to muse over how odd it was that Jeffery was now dating a similar (but younger) woman, Stafford eased into Sickbay.  
The main operating theater was empty, the bio-bed Stafford had occupied now empty, the wall displays shut down. The row of diagnostic beds along the right wall was empty. The tiny waiting area and adjacent nurse's station were likewise empty, a small 'Back in 5 Minutes' sign sitting on the desk. Peeking towards the corridor to the medical labs and offices, Stafford glimpsed Wowryk seated at her desk. He spotted the supply cart he'd left his chip on and carefully tip-toed towards it.  
/Ahem/  
Stafford stepped closer.  
/Down here!/ Lord Stalart snapped, /Oh, right, no telepathy. Well then.../  
"Goo! Goo!"  
"Wazzat?" Stafford started, then darted behind the nurse's desk as Wowryk turned to look into Sickbay.  
"Luke!" Stafford hissed, "Not now kiddo! I can let that bi- um, I can't let mommy see me!"  
/Yes, pity you don't have the gonads to stand up to her. Not that you need to worry about that much longer./  
"Hey, what's that you've got there, little guy?" Stafford asked, noticing the chip Stalart had clenched in one stubby hand.  
/Your doom! Would you like it? Or perhaps you would just care to make things easy for all of us and relinquish control of this vessel to me?/  
"That's right, give it here," Stafford took the chip, "Thanks kiddo! Don't let her push you around!" he winked as he slipped back out of Sickbay.  
"Kids," Stafford shuddered as he strolled towards the turbolft.

"Commander?" Fifebee asked, concerned. Noonan has just collapsed without warning and was lying on the ground in what was undoubtedly a very uncomfortable position to any species which included a spine as part of their anatomy. Noonan didn't move or make any attempt to make himself more comfortable.  
Hesitant to touch the fallen officer with her own hands, Fifebee quickly located a stick and proceeded to poke Noonan in the side.  
The reaction was instantaneous. Noonan's hand snapped out faster than the eye (but not the holo-scanners) could detect and snapped the stick like, well, like a twig.  
"That was unexpected," Fifebee murmured. Before she could call Silverado and update the captain on the situation, Noonan started to stir.  
"That was unexpected," he said, pulling himself to his feet.  
"Indeed", Fifebee agreed, "Are you well?"  
"Yes," Noonan said slowly, "from what I can tell, I seem to have fallen asleep."  
"Narcolepsy?" Fifebee asked.  
"Not that I'm aware of," Noonan said, "It's never happened before. I suggest we continue."  
"Very well," Fifebee agreed, "However, if it happens again, we-"  
"-must notify the captain. Yes."  
They walked in silence for several minutes, adjusting their course slightly as Fifebee tried to locate the source of the strange energy readings.  
"I have cross-linked my program with Silverado's scientific database and established an uplink to the archives at Memory Alpha," Fifebee said finally, "There is no record of any energy emissions like the one we are tracking."  
"Anything similar?" Noonan asked.  
"I'm checking, but it will take a few moments."  
"OOOHHHHHHHH YES!"  
The scream shook the hillside and scared the living hell out of both Noonan and Fifebee, who immediately had their phasers drawn.  
"I thought you said there were no life signs on this planet!" Noonan said quickly.  
"I did and there aren't!" Fifee cried.  
"AAAAHHHHHHHH YEAH!"

Stafford nodded politely as he passed members of his crew in the ship's seemingly endless corridors.  
There goes Crewman Gibson, a toolkit sling under one arm and smelling faintly of…something Stafford couldn't identify. Next was the cute blond ensign from Xeno-geology that made Stafford wish he was an ensign too. As he approached the entrance to the gymnasium he had to jump back as Crewman Kreklor and Ensign Marsden stormed out, arguing loudly.  
"Look, dude, if you wanna experiment with that kinda thing it's cool," Marsden was saying, "We'll just have to find somebody other than me for you to get romantic with!"  
"My hand slipped!" his Klingon companion roared, "It was an accident during a wrestling match! I did not want to touch you in any romantic way!"  
"Whatever you say, dude," Marsden shrugged, "But I really think you'd be happier if you'd just come to grips with-"  
"DIE, HUMAN SCUM!" Kreklor roared, tackling Marsden to the group.  
"RAPE! RAPE!" Marsden cried out, wriggling free of Kreklor's grip only to run head first into the corridor wall, knocking himself out. Shaking his heak, Kreklor slung the unconscious man over his shoulder.  
"Please tell me you're taking him to Sickbay," Stafford said from where he had plastered himself against the corridor wall.  
"YES, I AM FWARKING TAKING HIM TO SICKBAY!" Kreklor screamed, "Uh, sir," he added as he realized who he was addressing.  
"Carry on," Stafford sighed as he stepped into the gym.  
"Sickbay!" Kreklor snapped, stepping into the turbolift.  
Muttering to himself, Stafford let himself into the equipment room and started hunting for the robo-trainer.  
"Only on MY ship could we end up with a psychotic doctor, a blond helmswoman and a gay Klingon," he grumbled, "I bet Picard doesn't have these problems!"  
"Picard is a senior captain, of course he doesn't have these problems," Sylvia chimed in, "And you should know that Kreklor really did deliver Marsden to Sickbay and is having plenty of heterosexual sex with Ensign Beyosh."  
"Who's Ensign Beyosh?" Stafford asked.  
"The cute blond girl in Xeno-geology."  
"Figures," Stafford muttered, "Look, Sylvia, I could really use some alone time right now. Do you think you could maybe, I dunno…"  
"Buzz off for a while?" Sylvia suggested, "Oh, sure. Why not? I'm only your ship, your reason for living and the biggest responsibility in your life! Why shouldn't I just not care about what you do?"  
"Exactly," Stafford said, "C'mon Sylvia, just for a few hours? Please? You could keep an eye on Lieutenant Jall, he's got to have enough bad habits to keep you busy for weeks!"  
"If only you knew," Sylvia muttered, "Fine, you're on your own. Have fun trying to make yourself more attractive."  
"It's a health thing!" Stafford snapped.  
No answer.  
"Sylvia?"  
Nothing.  
"Alone at last," Stafford sighed.  
Returning to his search, Stafford realized that he really should have asked Sylvia where the robo-trainer was hidden BEFORE he asked her to ignore him.

"MMMMMMMMM"  
"The energy waves are spiking, Commander," Fifebee reported. No answer.  
"Commander Noonan?"  
Noonan was flat on his back again, eyes closed and breathing deeply, as though he were asleep.  
"Fifebee to Silverado,"  
"T'Parief here,"  
"Commander Noonan has passed out. How long until the transporter is repaired?"  
"3 hours. We could send a shuttle to pick you up."  
"Please do," Fifebee requested, "Once Commander Noonan is back onboard I will continue the investigation myself."  
"We'll have to get approval on that," T'Parief warned her.  
"Commander Noonan can do so when he wakes."  
"Understood. The Charger will depart shortly and will reach you in 30 minutes."  
"Thank you. Fifebee out."  
"That was hardly necessary," Noonan said, still lying on the ground, eyes open.  
"We agreed we would contact the ship if this happened again."  
"You know," Noonan mused, "this ground really is quite soft. Comfortable, even."  
"The energy waves have subsided," Fifebee noticed, tapping at her tricorder, "Weird. There's no detectable pattern to their activity. They seem to be bouncing up and down and random."  
"Taking me with them every time they spike," Noonan said thoughtfully, "Are there any ultra-violet or X-Ray component to the energy wave?"  
"There is an ultra-violet wavelength present," Fifebee frowned, "My apologies, Commander, I hadn't thought to check. Most species have natural immunities to UV radiation, clearly yours does not."  
"My…what?" Noonan asked, looking as innocent as possible.  
"Your species is clearly vulnerable to UV radiation," Fifebee continued, "As evidenced by the sunscreen and low-level shielding you employ on every planetary away mission. I did not take your specific life-support requirements into account when I analyzed the waveform."  
"Lieutenant," Noonan said firmly, "I assure you, I am human."  
"A human who can move faster than most humanoid species known to the Federation, employs moderate-level telepathy and hypnosis, survives entirely on what appears to be wine and is vulnerable to sunlight?" Fifebee raised an eyebrow, "Commander, you may have fooled the entire crew, with the exception of the Captain, but surely you did not think your tricks would work on me."  
Noonan's mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound emerged.  
"Pity Captain Stafford isn't here to interpret for you," Fifebee said with a smile.  
"Fine then," Noonan finally forced out, sounding like he was bringing up an unpleasant remnant of breakfast, "What do you think I am?"  
"I suspect that you are a member of a species known to the Federation, but classified from the general public for fear that your unique abilities could case unease and possible panic among the general populace."  
"That's pretty close," Noonan admitted. But not close enough, he added to himself, relieved, "It was actually we who chose to keep our existence a secret. You amaze me, Lieutenant Fifebee. You've picked up on much more than I had given you credit for."  
"It's my job," Fifebee said.  
"And what do you plan to do now?"  
"Obviously, the Captain and Starfleet feel that you are an asset to the ship. If they have agreed to keep your identify secret, it is not my place to second guess them."  
"Thank you," Noonan said with a nod. Fifebee might have picked up on a lot, but she had still missed the most crucial part of his secret. In fact, he realized, her misperceptions could come in very handy in the future.  
"You may want to find a comfortable spot to recline," Fifebee interrupted his musings, "The energy is spiking again."  
"Damn," Noonan mumbled as he fell to the ground.

"If I were Jeffery, where the hell would I hide a-OH DEAR GOD!" Stafford screamed and jumped back as his hands stumbled upon a lifeless form. He stumbled on an exercise ball and fell back onto a pile of Yoga mats. It was one of the less painful falls he had suffered.  
The lifeless form had, fortunately, turned out to be the robo-trainer he had been searching for and not, as he had thought, a dead body. It was clearly an android, though a very primitive one. Stafford had once met an android by the name of Larkin at the Academy. She had been hard to distinguish from a human, until she opened her mouth and started talking. The fact that her hand had popped off in the middle of a handshake had been a pretty big hint too. The robo-trainer, on the other hand, was clearly a robot. The limbs, though flesh coloured, were rigid and metallic, and the bald head featured a speaker grill rather than a mouth.  
"Let's see," Stafford mumbled to himself. There was a slot in the back of the androids head where his workout chip was clearly designed to fit. It slid in with a reassuring 'click' and a small red button lit up. Stafford pressed it.  
"Thank you for activating the Daystrom Cybernetics PT-101 Personal Training Android. You may call me Andy," rasped the metallic voice and the robo-trainer lurched to its feet, eyes glowing a soft red.  
"Andy. Oh, that's original," Stafford muttered.  
"Please state your name," Andy intoned.  
"Captain Christopher Stafford."  
"Working…"  
Stafford imagined he could almost hear the clicks as the out-dated duotronic circuits in Andy's head worked away.  
"Program located. Patient: Stafford, Chris. Physician: Wowryk, Dr. Noel. Patient condition: reduced muscle tone and stamina, increased body fat count. Recommendations: Weight training, cardiovascular activity. Mandatory workout mode engaged."  
"Mandatory workout mode?" Stafford asked.  
"Mandatory workout mode is designed to deal with patients with high resistance to the recommendations of their medical and/or psychiatric treatment professionals. Mandatory workout mode gives the PT-101 Personal Training Android the authority to override duty schedules and the personal preferences of the patient and can only be deactivated by the ships Chief Medical Officer."  
"Sooo, I have to exercise until Dr. Wowryk says I'm done?" Stafford asked, cringing slightly.  
"Correct," Andy affirmed.  
"Please tell me you don't have a Mandatory Catholicism Mode," Stafford asked, sounding more than a little afraid.  
"Negative."  
"Oh, thank God!"

"Can I fire the phasers?" Jall asked.  
"No," T'Parief said firmly.  
"Oh," Jall frowned, "How about the quantum torpedos?"  
"No!" T'Parief snapped.  
"It just irks you that I have control of the weapon systems as long as you're sitting in the command chair, doesn't it?"  
"Very much so," T'Parief admitted.  
"C'mon, big guy," Jall goaded, "You're in command! You can let me do it! What's the worse that could happen? It's not like I'd launch our Science Officer out the torpedo tube or anything silly like that."  
"That was an accident," T'Parief snapped, "And she's a hologram! It didn't bother her in the slightest!"  
"I wouldn't mind hearing you give the order to load the quantum ducks," Yanick giggled from the helm.  
"Please, don't encourage him!" T'Parief pleaded.  
"You're the boss," Yanick shrugged.  
"Yes," T'Parief nodded, "Yes I am. Leiutenant Stern?"  
"Yes, sir?"  
"Lieutenant Jall is confined to quarters until the Captain is finished in the gym. Charge him with, I dunno, what can we charge him with?"  
"Indecent exposure," Stern replied at once, "24 hours in the brig."  
"Hey!" Jall objected, "I was never nude in public!"  
"Actually," Yanick pointed out, "Remember when you wore those shorts to the lounge the other night?"  
"Uh, yeah. So?"  
"Well, you got a little hammered and started dancing on the tables," Yanick explained, "And it became pretty obviously to anybody sitting down that you didn't have underwear on."  
"Oh," Jall was quiet for a moment, "crud."  
"Let's go," ordered Stern.  
"Peace at last," sighed T'Parief as Stern led Jall into the turbolift.

"So, how long have you been in Starfleet," Fifebee asked, as she and Noonan neared the source of the energy emissions.  
"10 years," Noonan said.  
"Interesting."  
"Indeed."  
They walked in awkward silence for several minutes.  
"Something is bothering me about that voice we heard," Fifebee said.  
"Really? Sounded like it was having a good time to me."  
"Yes," Fifebee agreed, "But it was coming from the direction of the energy emissions. Logically, as we have not yet come across the source of the voice, it is most likely at the source of the emissions."  
"You could put a Vulcan to shame,"  
"But we were over 2 kilometers from the source," Fifebee went on, "I know of no species that could sustain such a powerful vocalization over such a distance."  
"A good point. We will be sure to ask him or her when we arrive."  
More silence.  
"I wonder where the shuttle is," Fifebee finally said.  
"It was due several minutes ago," Noonan replied, "Noonan to shuttlecraft Charger."  
"Mmmmm, Charger here," sighed a blissful voice.  
"Who is this?" Noonan demanded.  
"Ensign Pye," Pye said happily.  
"Ensign, you are overdue."  
"Yeah, but I just had this really nifty idea that I should just land right here, and, y'know, I just feel so glad I did. Everything is just soooo groovy,"  
"Where are you?" Noonan demanded.  
"I dunno…next to a big shiny rock,"  
"Fifebee?"  
"His signal is coming from the source of the energy waves."  
"I suppose I'll have to hitch a ride from here there then," Noonan sighed, "Update the ship, then let's get going."

"Nine, ten, one more, PUSH, eleven. Excellent," Andy said in his flat voice, "We will now move on to a seated row. Two sets, 10 reps each, 90 pounds."  
"Give me a break here," Stafford wheezed, "I'm still recovering!"  
"Patient is permitted 30 seconds of rest between sets," Andy intoned, "You have 10 seconds remaining."  
"Screw that!" Stafford muttered, stumbling to the water fountain and taking a deep drink, "I need a break!"  
"Patient will resume workout immediately," Andy stated.  
"Gimmie a minute," Stafford snapped.  
Andy fixed a metallic hand around Stafford's arm and pulled him effortlessly to the next station.  
"Patient will resume workout immediately."  
"OK, OK," Stafford grumbled, starting his exercise.  
Two sets later, he slumped over the machine.  
"Happy now?"  
"We will now move on to a bench press," Andy stated, "70 pounds in weight, plus a 45 pound bar. Two sets, 8 reps each. Begin."  
"No," Stafford snapped, "We've been at this for over an hour! I've already done the bench press! I'm going back to my quarters for a hot shower!"  
"Negative," Andy snapped, positioning himself between Stafford and the exit.  
"Move, dammit!" Stafford snapped. Andy stayed put.  
"Stafford to Jeffery," he hit his comm-badge, "I'm having trouble with the training android."  
No response.  
"Jeffery?"  
"Communications in this section have been disabled," Andy intoned, "You will continue your workout now."  
"Sylvia," Stafford called out, backing slowly to the bench press station "I could really use your help about now!'  
No reply.  
"I finally get that woman to give me some peace and it just has to be the one time I end up really needing her!" Stafford fumed. He was, in fact, getting really annoyed with artificial intelligences, intelligent or not.  
"Fine," Stafford said, "We'll play it your way, Andy," he picked up a 35 pound weight and turned to load in onto the bar.  
At the last second he pivoted, swinging the solid metal weight right at the side of Andy's head. With android reflexes, even decades old android reflexes, Andy reached up to intercept the makeshift bludgeon. But the impact was enough to send him off balance and to allow Stafford to make a dash for the door.  
"Workout sequence incomplete!" Andy screeched, running to intercept the escaping human.  
Stafford bolted out of the gymnasium and into the corridor. Wheezing for breath he started to run down the corridor. Looking back over his shoulder, he could see Andy in close pursuit.  
"Workout incomplete! Return to the gymnasium! You will comply!" Andy rasped.  
"Sorry buddy," Stafford gasped, taking a quick corner and running down a straight corridor towards the core of the saucer section, "the Borg trademarked that one years ago!"  
Barely managing to stay ahead of the rampaging robot, Stafford rushed past Crewman Gibson.  
"Glad to see yer getting yer exercise, monkey," Gibson called as he passed by.  
"Shut up and seek help!" Stafford gasped, ducking around another corner.  
"Sea…kelp?" Gibson repeated as Andy marched past, ignoring him, "Is it sushi night in the lounge?"

"We're almost there!" Fifebee called out to Noonan.  
Noonan was no longer capable of remaining conscious. He'd passed out on the last energy spike and hadn't woken up. Fifebee had determined that the amount of UV radiation was enough to put him into a coma, but from what she could determine his sunscreen and field generator would be enough to protect him from any permanent damage. So she was dragging him across the pine-needle covered ground by his ankles, which seemed like a much better idea then leaving him sitting in the middle of nowhere. With his ankles slung under one arm and her holo-relay being towed by the other, Fifebee was doing a pretty good impression of a pack mule.  
Whatever natural self-defenses Noonan had when he was in his dormant state were also dormant, although whether that was due to the energy waves or because at some level Noonan understood that she meant him no harm wasn't really clear to Fifebee.  
"That's correct, Mr. T'Parief," Fifebee stated, "Ensign Pye landed the shuttlecraft at our destination, and is being affected by the energy waves. I do not recommend sending another shuttle until we better understand what is happening.  
"Are you in any danger?" T'Parief asked.  
"I don't know," Fifebee answered honestly, "I rather doubt it, but if I'm screaming on my next transmission, then you'll know we're in danger."  
T'Parief only grunted.

Stafford climbed through the jefferies tubes, making his way to Deck 12. The tubes ran though every level of the ship, allowing access to vital systems. They weren't really meant to be used as escape routes, or for covert operations, but it seemed to happen that any kind of situation involving a starship and a hostile intruder (or crewmember) always resulted in somebody taking to the jefferies tubes. As if the corridors and turbolift system was suddenly incapable of moving them from point A to point B.  
"Downward climbing is not an efficient cardiovascular exercise," Andy intoned from above Stafford, "For maximum calorie burn, change to an upward direction immediately."  
"Screw you, Andy!" Stafford shouted.  
"Sexual activity is an effective cardiovascular workout," Andy replied, "but is not a part of my programming."  
"Oh, yuck,"  
Stafford clambered out of the vertical shaft and switched to a horizontal jefferies tube, heading towards the rear of the saucer section and the lounge.

"Is there a particular reason why the other animals can talk, but the dragon cannot?" Marsden whispered, fully recovered from his injury.  
"Don't ask me," Rengs whispered back, "this is Terran entertainment."  
Cartoon Night on Silverado had quickly metamorphosised into a weekly event, although the selection had grown to include non-animated films. This evenings show was in fact animated and several members of the senior staff would have been irked at missing it, if their minds hadn't been occupied by other things such as staying alive, tracking down strange energy emissions or worrying about people down on the planet. Even Jall was busy, having been dragged out of his confinement to help Jeffery work on the transporter.  
As it were, the officers and crewmembers in the lounge were enjoying the antics of a large green ogre and his talkative (and slightly annoying) donkey sidekick as they struggled to free a beautiful princess.  
"Perhaps she is the only one who understands that ONE DOESN"T SPEAK DURING A MOVIE!" Kreklor snarled.  
"Shut up!" snapped somebody towards the back.  
"Rewind it," suggested Nurse Veeneman, "I missed that last part, what with all the testosterone poisoning in this place!"  
"Who's got the remote?"  
"I think Steven had it last…"  
"For crying out loud," Sylvia sighed, "I'll do it! Honestly, it's like babysitting a pack of 10 year olds…" the picture skittered backwards to approximately the point at which Marsden made his initial remarks.  
The doors to Unbalanced Equations slid open. Steven left his bar to help the newcomer find an empty seat, but was rebuffed as Captain Stafford pushed past him and rushed to the front of the screen. He was gasping and holding a cramp in his side, and his somewhat revealing muscle shirt and shorts combo was generating a few chuckles from the gathered crew, especially the ugly sweat stains under his arms.  
"HELP!" he cried out as he passed the crew, "I've got an insane robot chasing after me!"  
Murmurs of confusion rippled through the crowd as people exchanged glances and looked back up at their captain.  
"Shit!" Stafford swore as Andy marched through the far set of double doors, eyes glowing.  
"I could really use some help here!" Stafford called out, backing towards the closer of the two exits.  
"You cannot escape," stated Andy.  
"Oh!" Steven, the bar manager, snapped his fingers, "Crap, I must have sent you the wrong date! 'Terminator 2' isn't playing for another month! We need to get through 'Shrek' and all the sequels first. Great job on the robot, but y'know, I think only half of the metal parts were showing in the movie. Yeah, if you want to get it right you need to cover about half of it in synthe-flesh, tear up the left hand a bit…"  
Stafford rolled his eyes, mentally cursing the bar manager, the crew, and the fact that the crew's growing obsessions with television was all his fault.  
"Can I start the movie again?" Sylvia asked, oblivious to the scene that had just played out, "What's everybody staring at?"  
"Start it up please, Sylvia," Steven replied, "Nothing happening here."

Giving up on getting help from the peanut gallery, Stafford set course for Sickbay. Darting out of the lounge, he jogged down the corridor, then spun left towards the turbolift.  
He was just about there when a metal half reached out from a crossing corridor, grasping him hard by the arm and throwing him off balance.  
"You will work out," Andy demanded, "Resistance is pointless."  
"Like hell!" Stafford snapped. He let himself go completely limp, putting his weight on Andy. The robot was caught off-guard, his stabilizers unable to compensate for the unexpected shift. Man and machine dropped to the deck in a heap, but Stafford was ready for it, climbing to his feet as soon as he hit the ground. One of Andy's hands snapped out and grabbed his ankle. Stafford went back to the deck again and kicked, but the stubborn android held on. Twisting around, Stafford kicked out again, hitting Andy square in the face and knocking off his speaker grill. He kicked out with the foot Andy gripped, banging Andy's arm against a support strut. There was a deep clang, and a brief electronic protest from the robot before he tightened his grip. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Stafford kicked out again. This time Andy's hand broke apart in a shower of sparks and bolts. Freed, Stafford dived into the turbolift.  
"Deck 4!"

Noel Wowryk was settling into a quiet night in her quarters. Her boyfriend, Simon Jeffery, was busy with ship repairs and her best friend, Ensign Yanick, was up on the bridge until the away team could make their way back to the ship. She'd considered going to the movie, but changed her mind when she learned that it involved magic. Magic was clearly against the bible.  
Even little Luke was being well behaved, sitting on the couch, playing with a rubix cube and smiling every now and then.  
Sighing to herself, she started her evening's therapy.  
To help overcome her fear of sex, Counselor Yvonnokoff had given her a reading list of romance novels to read, to help her see how people could have sex without being struck down by the hand of God. Granted, the characters were all sinners, but Wowryk had to admit that everybody was. God certainly wouldn't approve of her own temper tantrums.  
"As he kissed her, she could feel his arousal by the way his…his…member?" Wowryk frowned, "Member of what? Planetary Parliament? I thought he was a carpenter!"  
/Oh please,/ Luke thought to himself, /She can remember the name for every internal organ in dozens of species but she doesn't know slang for-"  
BE-DEEP!  
Wowryk walked to the door, padd in hand.  
"Yes?" she let the door hiss open.  
"Doctor!" Stafford gasped, "Am I ever glad to see you! Call it off!"  
"Excuse me?" Wowryk asked.  
"The robot! It's gone berserk! It'll be here any moment!"  
"Oh, don't worry. It'll shut down once your workout is finished," Noel was still staring at her padd, "What does a member have to do with sex?"  
"What?"  
"'She could feel his arousal by the way his member surged'," Wowryk read, "I don't get it."  
"His pe…pe…" Stafford couldn't say the work, "His, um, male body part,"  
"Oh, that makes sense," Wowryk nodded, "Thank you," She started to close the door. Stafford ducked in at the last moment.  
"I don't recall inviting you in!" Wowryk said crossly.  
"Doctor, you don't get it!" Stafford snapped, "That thing is trying to kill me!"  
Wowryk pulled her eyes from her padd and finally noticed Stafford's condition. He looked like hell; hair mussed, leg bloody where Andy's fingers had broken the skin. Sweat poured down his face, and his arm was bruising where Andy had grabbed him.  
/Excellent!/ chirped Lord Stalart.  
"Look at me!" Stafford went on, "Do you think this is the result of a regular workout?"  
"I…suppose not," Wowryk admitted.  
There was a sharp CLANG and a dent appeared in Wowryk's door.  
"He's here!" Stafford screamed, "There's no way out!"  
"Can't Jeffery beam you out?" Wowryk asked as Andy continued to claw at the door.  
"Transporters are down!" Stafford cried, "Unless…Stafford to Pysternzyks!"  
"Here,"  
"Quick! Use the transporters on the Asessippi to beam me directly to Holodeck 1!"  
"Give me a minute to get down to the flight deck," Pystersykz replied, "I assume you need to escape from a corner in which you are cowering like an infant!"  
"As you were, Ensign!" Stafford said sternly, "Not all of us see dying as a good thing!"  
With a groan, the door to Noel's quarters fell inward.  
"The bathroom!" Noel snapped, "I'll buy you some time!"  
"Thanks, Doc!" Stafford gulped.

Andy stepped over the ruins of the door. His uplink to the ship's internal sensors told him that his target had entered Cabin 5, Deck 4, Chief Medical Officer's Quarters.  
His own sensors scanned the room quickly, settling on a female human, identified as Wowryk, Dr. Noel.  
"End Mandatory Workout Mode," the female said, "Authorization Wowryk 17, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John."  
Andy's Authentication Subroutine recognized and accepted the authorization code and sent the command to the Central Process Manager to shut down the Mandatory Workout Process.  
Within milliseconds a counter command had been sent by another, unrecognized program, reinstituting MWP. The Authentication Subroutine fought with the unknown program for a cybernetic eternity (about 5 seconds) before the unknown process switched tactics, feeding the Authentication Subroutine false reports that MWP had been successfully terminated. Satisfied, the Authentication Subroutine retreated to the back of Andy's duotronic brain.  
"Authorization accepted," Andy stated, "Mandatory Workout Mode is disengaged. New parameters: Locate Stafford, Captain Christopher and complete training program as per Mandatory Workout Mode."  
"That's not the response that was in the manual," Wowryk muttered, "I said end Mandatory Workout Mode!"  
"That process has been ended," Andy reported, "Resuming search for Stafford, Captain Christopher. Mandatory Workout Mode engaged."  
/Wonderful!/ Stalart gushed, /If I'd known you were going to come here, I would have programmed you to kill her too!'

"Did I mention that 14 of my hive-cousins died at the hands of malfunctioning machines?" Pysternzykz asked over the open channel as Stafford cowered in Wowryk's shower. Life sure sucked. He'd managed to get into the second most dreamed about place on the ship (the number one spot being Wowryk's bedroom) and here he was cowering for his life!  
"Less talk, more hurry!" Stafford hissed, "He's coming! He's found me! He's-"  
THUMP!  
Stafford materialized two feet above a round hay bale, bouncing once then slipping down the side, narrowly missing bopping a roan mare on the nose. The surprised horse snorted and tossed her head.  
"Computer, end program!" Stafford stated, hoping that some part of the holodeck control systems would respond to him, even if Sylvia wouldn't.  
He was relieved when the simulate barn faded from view, revealing the holodeck grid.  
"Excellent," Stafford sighed, "Time to prepare a surprise for good old Andy…"

"AHHHHHH!" sighed the overpowering voice happily as Fifebee topped the last rise between her and her destination.  
Leaving her holo-relay and Commander Noonan in the relative shelter of the last hill, she stepped boldly over the top.  
And stopped.  
She had been expecting many things. A bizarre alien artifact, perhaps a portal to another time or space. Or a new mineral or element that gave off the energy waves the way radium emitted X-Rays.  
She was half right.  
Surrounded by steep hills on all sides was a perfectly round patch of crystals.  
They grew towards the center of the patch, going from tiny, azure chips no bigger than snowflakes around the edges to pebble sized granules the color of sapphires, to fist sized chunks of turquoise. Finally, in the very center of the field was a single faceted gem more than two meters across. Lying flat on top of this gym was a single humanoid male.  
He was fairly unremarkable; dark hair, broad shoulders. But he was wearing, strangely enough, a Starfleet uniform with Captain's pips.  
As Fifebee watched, he let out another contented sigh, the volume of which was almost enough to knock her off her feet.  
"AHHHHHHHHH!"  
Unsure of what to say, Fifebee decided to stick with Starfleet Polite Inquiry #3.  
"Good day sir, I am Lieutenant Jane Fifebee of the Federation Starship Silverado. I apologize for interrupting, but are you aware that your…crystals…are creating energy waves that are disrupting some of our officers."  
The man started laughing.  
"Starfleet! Oh doesn't that just figure!" he said, a slightly dazed grin on his face, "I finally get a chance to sit back and relax, get away from humanity for a while and what happens? They come 'seeking out new life' and end up on my doorstep!"  
Fifebee blinked as her recognition database scanned through millions of entries and against all odds recognized the voice.  
"Q?"

Andy stumbled slightly as he exited the turbolift and started walking towards Holodeck 1, where his quarry was hiding. His left hand was sparking from the damage Stafford had done, and the short circuits were scrambling several of motor control functions. Cooperation between his guidance systems and his internal layout of ship enabled him to quickly locate the entrance to the Holodeck. The doorway was locked, but Andy quickly interfaced with the ship's systems and entered an override code.  
The doors opened, revealing darkness. Andy stepped in, the doors closing behind him and cutting off the light from the corridor. Switching to infrared, Andy swept the interior of the room.  
He was in a factory of some kind, although his limited artificial intelligence didn't really recognize it as such. His eyes saw conveyer belts, high ceilings, workbenches, drills, presses, air compressors and various chunks of manufacturing equipment. Since there was nothing that could possibly be used as workout equipment, his brain saw only obstacles and potential hiding places.  
"Stafford, Captain Christopher: Your workout will resume." He intoned.  
"I don't think so, Andy!" Stafford snapped, a hand phaser in one hand and a heavy revolver in the other "Gym time is over!"  
He fired the phaser, sending a stun blast right into Andy's torso. And absolutely nothing happened?  
"Dammit!" Stafford snapped. He hadn't been sure whether the holographic phaser would work, but really wasn't surprised when it didn't. Of course, if Sylvia was paying attention to him he could have used his command clearance to open a real weapons locker. Fortunately, he had a backup plan.  
"Eat lead, Andy!" Stafford cried, pulling the trigger. The gun bucked, sending Stafford flying back into a stack of boxed ball bearings. The shot ricocheted off Andy's head, leaving nothing more than a small dent.  
"The Daystrom Cybernetics PT-101 Personal Training Android is among the most durable models of Daystrom robots, owing to the potential wear and tear of heavy exercise," Stafford could swear the damned robot sounded smug.  
Grabbing a box of bearings, Stafford pulled off the lid and hurled it to the floor. Small metal balls bounced and rolls towards Andy.  
"Keep your 'bearings', Andy!" Stafford shouted gleefully, staggering to his feet and rushing away.  
Andy switched from his standard stepping gait to a rapid shuffle, knocking bearings out of the way and not coming anywhere close to tripping.  
"Well," Stafford muttered to himself, "I really thought that one would work better!"  
"Prepare to be pumped!" Andy stated.  
"Hey buddy," Stafford snapped, "I do the pumping! Um, but not with you. Or with anything remotely resembling a male of any species. Except for that girl who looked kinda male-ish, but I'm pretty sure she was a lesbian anyway!"  
Andy stared at him.  
"Prepare to die!" he finally snarled, pushing a drill press out of the way and moving towards Stafford.  
"Okay then," Stafford muttered, "On to plan C!"  
Stafford scurried past stacks of metal sheeting, barrels of chemicals, hunting desperately for…there it was!  
Stafford turned to make his stand as Andy walked towards him, limping slightly.  
"The workout will continue," Andy droned, "resistance is pointless. I will correct your body fat percentage and increase your flexibility…by tearing off your limbs!"  
"You want a piece of me?" Stafford taunted, "Fine then…come and get it!"  
Andy continued walking towards him, right until Stafford pulled out a solid steel pin. Pulling out the pin just happened to release a metal hook, which coincidentally enough was attached to a rather lengthy chain. The chain slithered up the wall and through a pulley. At the other end of the chain an entire crate of stainless steel refrigerators tumbled to the concrete floor, smashing Andy to pieces on the way down.

"Q," Fifebee said again, "What are you doing?"  
"I am," Q said contentedly, "relaxing. This is a Geroxian Pleasure Device, one of only 3 to have ever been successfully completed. The rest all drove the test-users insane, or something like that."  
"Pleasure Device?" Fifebee bit her lip, "Well, could you please turn it off so we can revive our First Officer and return out pilot from happy-land?"  
"Weee!" Ensign Pye said cheerfully fron the nearly shuttle, spinning around again and again on this chair.  
"I suppose I could," Q mused, "I'm in a surprising agreeable mood."  
The deep glow inside the gems faded. The change was immediate.  
"Oh of all the inane stunts!" Q snapped, "You would think that after all the fuss Katherine and Jean-Luc made about my 'meddling', which by the way was just me being helpful in my own special way, that Starfleet would have better things to do than come hunting be down! And do you have any idea how hard it is to actually get some time off from the Continuum?"  
"Not difficult enough to prevent you from having your own special alone time, apparently," Fifebee commented.  
"And exactly what are you implying by that, you oozing ball of coherent light?" Q snapped.  
"I would have thought the Q to be evolved beyond the needs for simple physical gratification."  
"Of course we are!" Q snapped! "Honestly, you bottom-feeders! You just assume that anything dealing with pleasure has to do with sex? This device is the ultimate in stress relieve and relaxation and has NOTHING to do with any of the perverted sexual mating habits of your creators! Pity the species that created it fell into a black hole. But I have half a mind to send you to join them!"  
"Did I miss something?" Noonan asked, walking up behind Fifebee and interrupting Q just before he could banish Fifebee to oblivion.  
"Yes, Commander," Fifebee said, "this is Q, the omnipotent life form that-"  
"Yes," Noonan interrupted, "I have been briefed on the Q and their involvement in the Federation."  
"Oh, well this is interesting," Q murmured, "I never thought I'd see one of you so far from Earth!"  
Noonan stiffened.  
"That statement doesn't necessary make you sound all that all-knowing," Noonan said coldly.  
"Yes, well" Q shrugged, "I know anything I want. I can't say I especially wanted to know about you."  
"You know about my species," Noonan said flatly.  
"Know about it?" Q raised his eyebrows, "Of course I do! I know everything!  
"Oh, this again," Fifebee muttered.  
"Yes, well," Q stretched, "Charming meeting you and all, but I really must be going. Normally I'd come up with some entertaining maze for you rats to run, but I think you're all in quite enough trouble as it is. Cheery bye!"  
"Wait," Noonan said, "Trouble? What do you mean 'trouble'?"  
Q winked, snapped his fingers and vanished in a flash.

Captain's Personal Log, Supplimental.  
"Now that the strange energy readings have been explained we're resuming our mapping mission. Personally, I was hoping to find something a bit more interesting than an alien non-erotic pleasure device, but Starfleet seemed happy to get any kind of information on this Q character, no matter how inane it was. When the device was deactivated, both Noonan and Pye returned to normal and flew the shuttle back to the ship. Noonan came back with some vague warning of us being in trouble, I guess we're all doomed and I may as well lie down and die now! Seriously, I think he was just spooked. The files I've found on Q tell me that he's probably just trying to scare us. If not, well, there's always the whole lie down and die plan."  
"Sylvia started paying attention to me again about 2 hours after Andy's untimely death. Unfortunately, after this little incident there's no way in hell I'll be able to convince her to leave me alone for two seconds!"  
"Dr. Wowryk patched me up well enough, and even apologized for the problem. I probably would have appreciately more if that little brat of hers hadn't been throwing such a temper tantrum!"  
Jeffery found a glitch in Andy's programming that for some strange reason turned him into a homicidal maniac. One more example of why duotronics are obsolete and why forcing me to do things I don't wanna do is a bad, bad idea."  
"Andy may have been destroyed, but Dr. Wowryk insists that I get back on a fitness routine. Fortunately, I've found a replacement trainer."

"Five, six, seven, eight. Good," Fifebee said, bored out of her electronic mind, "Next will be pec flys, 90 pounds, 10 reps. Did I mention I'm bored out of my mind?"  
"Sorry Fifebee," Stafford grunted, straining against the workout equipment, "But if something goes wrong this time, I want a trainer I can turn off in the blink of an eye!"  
"Charming," Fifebee rolled her eyes.

End


	12. Drink Sometime?

Star Traks: Silverado

2.12 "Of Mice and Strange Men,"

Personal Log, Steven Steiger, Stardate 76901.5

"Screw that personal log stuff! I'm not a Starfleet officer! I'm a civilian! It's just that this damned runabout I've been loaned only has two ways to record my thoughts…and the other way involves lipstick, mirrors and the complete loss of my cleaning deposit,"  
"Anyway, the lounge staff and I are finally taking a long overdue vacation from our jobs at Unbalanced Equations, the officer's lounge aboard the USS Silverado. For the next three weeks we're not lifting a finger…it's off to the luxury resort of Wasaga-Kling for us! Yeah, I know, the idea of a Klingon luxury resort kinda worried me too for a bit. Interesting story: The place started off as a 'resettlement community' for Klingons of certain, um, preferences, that were felt to be, er, undesirable by Klingon society. The High Council just didn't count on the exceptional food service abilities, decorating skills and trend-setting, song-writing talents of the residents turning the place into the sector's hottest tourist spot for female vacationers. Next thing you know, the resettlement community becomes a 'proud Klingon colony, entitled to all the rights, privileges and of course tax payments such a title entails. Mixed-up people!"  
"But the best part as far as I'm concerned: hot, young women flock to this place like moths to a flame for some reason. Sounds like a win-win situation for me!"

"So, what's the deal with all the chicks heading to Wasaga-Kling anyway?" Steven asked, turning to his head waitress, Mary, who was playing a game of 'Andorian Ritual Rampage' on the runabout computer. The runabout Niagara had been given to Silverado by the Associated Worlds Network, in return for Captain Stafford allowing Counselor Yvonnokoff to go off and 'shill' for her show. Yvonnokoff had wound up being kidnapped, but AWN let them keep the runabout anyway. Jeffery had upgraded the civilian runabouts weapons, shields and sensors to Starfleet standard, and the civilian computer had a much better selection of games, films and replicator files than a standard Starfleet runabout.  
"Call it an escape, honey," Becky Smith said, chewing a big, pink wad of bubble-gum. Her trademark pink suspenders had made her something of a fashion outcast on Silverado, but her drink-mixing ability was second only to Steven's. She had several other 'assets' that further endured her to the male members of the crew, "It's one of the few resort planets we can go to without having hordes of horny guys trying to get into our pants!"  
"Except for guys like you," Mary added, tossing her head. Mary had joined Steven several months after he started on Silverado, replacing a waiter that had suffered an unfortunate accident involving karaoke night and a stiletto heel.  
"Yeah," chimed in Samantha. Samantha was known for her thick red hair, voluptuous figure and willingness to please the men in her life, "the ones that will do anything and go anywhere for a good f-"  
"Hey, hey," Steven jumped to his own defense, "I'm pretty sure that there are going to be PLENTY of women who would enjoy a bit of male attention!"  
"We're going to get plenty of that," Mary shrugged, "Except that these guys are going to hang out with us without trying to use our chests as handlebars."  
"Not all women are like you!"  
"That's true," Becky admitted, adjusting her strapless tops, "some of them are trashy skanks,"  
"Oh come on!" snapped Steven, "Like you haven't had your way with half the crewmen on Deck 14! I at least have standards! I don't mess around with my customers!"  
"Everyone on the ship is your customer!" Mary stated, "Which is why you've become such a horny pig!"  
"Drinks anybody?" Samantha winced, walking back to the replicator.

"The Niagara is no longer appearing on our sensors, Captain," Lieutenant Fifebee reported from sciences.  
"As in 'something bad has happened' or as in 'they've gone very far away'?" Stafford asked, taking a sip of fruit juice.  
"The second one," Fifebee replied.  
"No subspace anomalies? No hostile aliens? No lunatic kidnapping broadcast executives?" Stafford pressed.  
"Nothing," Fifebee confirmed.  
"Well then," Stafford settled into his command chair, "I guess we just stay on course for our next assignment. Whatever it ends up being,"  
"ETA is one week," Yanick added helpfully from the helm.  
"Yes, thanks for that," Stafford replied, "This leaves us traveling without our lounge manager for a week. This is going to be a very boring week!"  
"And he won't even be back for 2 weeks after that!" Yanick complained.  
"He did leave the replicators in Unbalanced Equations programmed with all of his more popular recipes," Noonan pointed out, flicking his eyes up from the engine status report he was reading.  
"Hey," Yanick said, turning around in her chair, "if replicators were as good as a real bartender, we wouldn't have Steven around to begin with! And can replicators plan parties? Arrange limbo contests? Offer a shoulder or cry on?"  
"Point conceded," Noonan inclined his head in Yanick's direction.  
"Maybe if you ever tried something other than wine, you'd appreciate the skills and abilities Steven brings to the job," Stafford jested.  
"What can I say?" Noonan said, his normally relaxed smile now slightly strained, "I'm rather set in my ways."  
"I still don't understand why I couldn't go with them!" Jall complained from Operations, crossing his arms and staring angrily at the main viewscreen, "This Wasaga-Kling place sounds like my kind of planet!"  
"Mr. T'Parief," Stafford said with exaggerated politeness, "Would you care to explain to our good Ops officer here the reasoning behind my decision to deny his vacation request?"  
"Of course, Captain," T'Parief answered in the same tone, baring his teeth, "Mr. Jall, the Captain's decision to deny your vacation request was based on one indisputable fact: We like Steven. We want him to return and continue to serve us his delicious syntheholic beverages. Placing an offensive individual like yourself in close quarters with him for an extended period of time would seriously jeopardize our valued relationship with him,"  
"Couldn't have said it better myself," Noonan chuckled softly.  
Jall said nothing, simply rolling his eyes and amusing himself by shutting down the hot water flow to Stafford's shower.

After the end of their shifts, Yanick and T'Parief were relaxing in Yanick's quarters. At least Yanick was relaxed, curled up against T'Parief's side with a magazine padd in one hand. T"Parief on the other hand was nearing the brink of insanity.  
When Trish had been a little girl, her mother had bought her a potpourri-stuffed lizard. The little critter had been made of cloth with big plastic eyes and had brought a pleasant fragrance to Yanick's bedroom. Over the years, she'd started collecting them.  
T'Parief hadn't even noticed the things until recently, when he spotted one sitting behind a potted plant on one of Yanick's end tables. After finding one, he suddenly found more of the creepy little air fresheners all over her quarters…on the table, on the wall ledge by the windows, in the bedroom, in the bathroom, on top of the vidscreen, on the dining area table.  
All of them watching him with their beady little plastic eyes. Waiting and plotting. Until one day when they'd come to life, skin him alive and stuff his hide with potpourri!  
Whoa.  
Taking a deep breath, T'Parief tried to focus on the beautiful woman at his side rather than her stupid stuffed lizards.  
"Stafford to Yanick,"  
Groaning, Yanick tapped her comm-badge.  
"Yanick here,"  
"Ensign, please report to the lounge. We have a serious problem," Stafford said, then disconnected.  
"I wonder what kind of emergency this is?" Yanick said brightly, setting her padd aside and heading for the door, "Oh well. I bet I'll be back soon, handsome. Make yourself comfortable."  
T'Parief took one quick glance around, spotting at least 6 pairs of beady potpourri lizard eyes.  
"I will come with you!" he said quickly, darting out the door.

Yanick jumped through the doors of Unbalanced Equations before they had even fully opened. They started closing, then immediately started opening again as they sensed T'Parief's approach. Once the alien officer's tail was clear, they again started closing, only to have to open again as they detected the approach of Crewman Gibson.  
Again, they started closing, only to reopen as Crewman Roscoe zipped down the corridor and between the closing doors.  
Had they been capable, the artificial intelligence circuits controlling the doors would have screamed in frustration. As it were, they satisfied themselves by snapping firmly shut as Crewman Shwaluk approached.

Once Shwaluk's nosebleed (an unfortunate effect of the door AI's minor and temporary rebellion) had been taken care of, Stafford finally addressed Yanick.  
"Trish," he started, putting an arm around her shoulder, "We need your help,"  
"Sure!" Yanick said happily, "What is it? Shuttle piloting? Spatial anomaly? Broken warp-thingamajig?"  
"Uh, no," Stafford cleared his throat, "Um. Well, we need you to bartend."  
"Huh?" Yanick frowned, "Didn't Steven program the drink replicator?"  
"He did," Stafford agreed warily, "but there was a slight…accident,"

Half an hour earlier…

"OK, come one, come all! Get your drinks before they fall!" Stafford said happily, reaching into the drink replicator to remove the frosty Long Island iced teas he'd ordered for himself and Jeffery.  
"Yer being WAY too cheerful about this, Chris," Jeffery grumped from the bar, reaching out to take his drink.  
Stafford shrugged.  
"Whatever," he said, "How often do I get the chance to do something like this for the crew? It's different! It's a novelty! It's-"  
"A total waste of yer time," Jeffery cut in.  
"I agree," Dr. Wowryk said, sipping her tea.  
"See?" Jeffery gestured to Wowryk.  
"No, honey," Wowryk gave him a smile, "I agree with the Captain. This makes him seem friendlier and more personable to the crew."  
"Figures," Jeffery grumbled, "Ye never agree with me,"  
"I came here with you, didn't I?" Wowryk shot back.  
"Play nice," Stafford grinned, "Don't make me separate you two!"  
/How about a little service here!/ Luke, AKA High Master Stalart of Arcania, had climbed up one of the bar stools and was thumping his fists against the bar. The tiny, baby-like alien had been on Silverado for months now, with none of the crew realizing that he was in fact an alien and not a baby. Nobody on the ship could receive his telepathic speech, and his mouth had de-evolved to the point where it was useless, due to a dependence on telepathy. Only Commander Noonan could sense when Stalart was thought-speaking, and even he could only perceive it as a headache.  
"Uchhh!" Stafford exclaimed, "Did you have to bring the kid? I'd like to think that Steven's 'Family Friendly' policy has gone on vacation right along with him!"  
"Don't start!" Jeffery griped, "It was yer idea for us to take care of him, anyway,"  
"Right, right," Stafford mumbled. He turned to the drink replicator and ordered up a baby formula for Luke.  
"Here you go, kiddo," he said.  
/ENOUGH!/ Stalart mentally screamed, /I REFUSE TO DRINK THIS PUTRID SLUDGE ONE MINUTE MORE!/  
He hurtled the glass bottle at the replicator with surprising strength. Glass and replicator panel shattered, with thick goop sliding down into the innards of the replicator.  
Sparks flew from the device as the controller circuits short-circuited.  
"I f**king hate kids," Stafford said softly, coming out of his cringe as the sparks faded. Then, for all to hear, "So, does anybody here know how to mix drinks?"

"And that's why we need you," Stafford finished, "Even if we fix the replicator, the recipes Steven had stored in it are gone!"  
"Great story," Gibson cut in from where he sprawled in one of the side booths, "I especially liked how you started with the little ice-breaker, then moved in closer to the relevant stuff-"  
"Gibson?" Stafford interrupted him, "Shut up. You've been spending too much time with Yvonnokoff,"  
"Tell us about it, sir," griped Crewman Shwaluk, his voice still nasal, "Last night he tried to psyco-analyze me when I said I didn't feel like having sex with Leslie,"  
"That is kind of strange, you've got to admit," Gibson said in his defense.  
"Not lusting after your girlfriend is strange," Stafford conceded, "Especially when she's as hot as Nurse Kerry is. But, if you don't mind, I'm trying to talk to Ensign Yanick here!"  
"Grouch," Gibson muttered as he and his friends returned to their drinks.  
"So," Stafford turned back to Yanick expectantly, "can you do it?"  
"Do what?" Yanick asked, twirling one finger in her long, blond hair and looking perplexed.  
"Tend the bar!" Stafford exclaimed, "I mean, you drink so much that you must know how to mix them!"  
"Chris!" Yanick cried out, "Are you calling me a drunk?"  
"No,!" Stafford held up his hands, "Of course not!"  
"Somebody once said to me," Dr. Wowryk chipped in, "that you should never have more than 5 drinks in one sitting,"  
"Probably good advice," Jeffery nodded, "Thank God I'm standing!"  
"Trish?" Stafford prompted.  
"Oh, all right!" Yanick snapped, "but first we're doing some redecorating!"

Steven, Mary, Samantha and Becky landed the Niagra in a crowded spacedock orbiting the planet Wasaga-Kling. Once the runabout had been secured, they rode a transporter down to the planet surface, to the resort of Kliding Mountain. The arrival platform was located atop a towering building in the center of the resort, giving them a spectacular view of the place.  
Kliding Mountain Resort was divided like a pie, or a pizza, or some other round edible object that must be sliced into pieces prior to consumption. Steven couldn't actually see any mountains, but there were hills off to the east. To the west was an almost circular harbor, nearly a mile in diameter, filled with brilliant blue water. Beyond a narrow straight and a shimmering security field was the ocean itself. Presumable, the field prevented shark-like creatures or other dangerous predators from getting near the swimmers cavorting in the clear water. The section of the resort leading to the ocean, the Nature District, was a medley of parkland and forest; clearly that third of the resort was set-aside for the nature lovers. Another third of the huge 'pie' was a tangle of streets, hotels, casinos, clubs, pools and so forth, catering to the party-crowd. This was the Resort District. The final part of the resort, the City District, looked to Steven to be part of the actual colony. Klingon-style buildings lay in neat rows, with smaller buildings at the edge of the colony making way for larger and more elaborate structures closer to the resort boundaries. Looking closely at some of the closest streets, Steven could make out tiny figures moving both ways between the different sections. Clearly there was no segregation between citizens and visitors despite the layout, which matched what he'd read in the pamphlet.  
"Steven," Samantha said, grabbing him by the arm, "Enough site-seeing! Let's get to our hotel!"  
"But-" Steven started to protest that he WANTED to enjoy the view.  
"The sooner we drop off our stuff, the sooner we can get the hell away from each other and do whatever we want," Becky pointed out, still chomping on her gum.  
"I found us a bellboy," Mary said happily, approaching the group with a very large, very muscular Klingon. Steven had never seen a Klingon wearing a white suit before. Judging from the way the ladies were eying him, Steven assumed that it looked good, pulled tight as it was across the alien's broad chest and shoulders. Possibly that meant he might find Klingon females in French maid's uniforms?  
That line of thought, unfortunately, brought up unpleasant memories of previous encounters, one during the body-swap crisis and one during the crew's first adventure into Queen Wowryk's Dreamland, shortly after leaving dry dock. Both had involved French maid uniforms. Both had, unfortunately, also involved Lieutenant Jall. This association served to somewhat reduce the sex appeal of even the hottest woman wearing the uniform.  
The Klingon bowed and commenced loading the group's luggage onto a trolley.  
"His names Fruge," Mary said, "Isn't he handsome?"  
"For a Klingon," Samantha said softly, licking her lips.

Within minutes, the group had been escorted to a decent looking hotel near the boundary of the Resort and Nature districts. Fruge left them with another silent bow, leaving the four of them to split ways as they found their rooms. Their suites were in the same section of the resort, with a joined entryway leading off to individual suites. The area was clearly designed for people vacationing in groups who may want familiar faces nearby, but not TOO near.  
"Hey, what's this?" Mary asked, reaching to pull a piece of paper from one of Steven's bags.  
"I dunno," Steven shrugged, "I don't think it was there before,"  
"Oh, it's a note!" Mary said, opening it, "It's an invitation to a party! And a comm-code!"  
"So the bell-hop snuck us an invite," Steven shrugged, "They probably do it to all the guests,"  
"No," Samantha said, narrowing her eyes, "if they did, it would be a properly printed invitation, not a hand-written note. Didn't you take Hospitality 101? And why did he put it in YOUR bag?"  
The three girls turned to look at Steven, sneakly little grins forming on their faces.  
Steven threw his arms up in the air.  
"Oh come on!"  
"Comm-code and everything," Samantha smiled.  
"Steven's already started picking up!" Mary laughed.  
"I have not! I LIKE GIRLS!" Steven snapped.  
"Better get used to saying that at this place," Becky said, "I dunno about you three, but I'm going to see if there are any BBQ places in the nature area.  
"I," Steven said pointedly, "am going to see where all the GIRLS hang out!"  
The two of them promptly left.  
"I'm going to see what they have in the way of spas," Mary said as she turned to leave.  
"I'll just take this then," Samantha said softly as she snagged the note with Fruge's comm-code.

"OK, you know, I have to admit, this could have turned out worse," San Jall said, sipping at a Martian Margarita as he looked around the newly decorated Unbalance Equations.  
Or, as Yanick had renamed it, the Silver Star Bar.  
The place was largely unchanged, as the change in management was temporary. Yet Yanick had managed to take the lounge's existing décor and transform it into a western theme.  
Since Steven had taken over, the lounge had been a cross between a pub and a coffee shop. The walls were a pale tan with wood paneling covering the lower half of the walls and wooden trim reaching up to the ceiling. Even the supports running across the ceiling had been disguised as finished wooden beams. Booths lined the port and starboard walls, with the bar running across the forward wall. The two doorways at the inner corners of the room had a wooden finish with small windows bearing the Starfleet insignia. Small tables dotted the middle of the room with the aft wall being dominated by 8 large windows looking out from the aft rim of the saucer section, affording a breathtaking view of space with the ship's warp nacelles clearly visible on the lower edge. Several comfortable armchairs, including a special chair for T'Parief, were facing the windows. The senior staff had quickly laid claim to this section. Tables in one corner could be easily moved to clear a small dance floor when necessary.  
Yanick hadn't touched any of that. What she had done was taken down all the wall hangings; the pictures, the artwork and even the huge painting behind the bar that supposedly represented some Starfleet engineer's artistic vision of a starship's warp field. (Rumor had it the name of the lounge had been inspired by Jeffery's loud complaints regarding the difficulties of programming the warp field equations to get Silverado's state-of-the-art warp drive integrated into the ship's 50 year-old chassis.)  
Now a pair of replicated wagon wheels hung behind the bar, and everything from saddles to horsewhips to lassos adorned the walls. Nobody noticed Crewman Shwaluk and Nurse Kerry carefully slipping a horsewhip off the wall.  
"As long as she doesn't go and make cowboy hats mandatory, I'm happy," Stafford agreed, not looking at his operations officer.  
"Didn't we already do the barn theme?" Jeffery wondered to himself.  
"Yes we did," Wowryk said coolly, "In fact, as I recall, our last barn party resulted in me breaking my arm,"  
"Oh," Jeffery flushed. How could he have forgotten that? He'd spiked Wowryk's drink, gotten her drunk, she'd broken her arm and he had been tossed in the brig. Whoopsie.  
"Interesting that you've forgotten," Wowryk said, echoing Jeffery's thoughts and getting up to leave.  
"Wait, Noel," Jeffery downed the last of his drink then darted after her, "Ah didn't forget! It was just the stupid theme!"  
"Here they go again," T'Parief muttered just loudly enough for Stafford to hear.  
"I hear you," Stafford agreed, downing his drink. A loud laugh from the across the crowded room drew his attention. The Hazardous Team, Silverado's Alpha shift security squad, had gathered in one corner of the room and were loudly toasting Ensign Simmons' high score in one of their holodeck simulations. On the other side of the room, he could see a crew woman he didn't recognize sitting in a booth with her civilian husband and teenage son. As much as he hated kids, he had to admit that looking around the crowded room at the happy families and groups of crewmates really served to remind him that over the past year and a half, Silverado had become a community. As soon as Steven got back and returned things to normal, everything would be great.  
"Bridge to Captain Stafford," came Lieutenant Quintane's voice from the comm.  
"Stafford here," Stafford said reluctantly, sure that whatever news he was about to receive would probably spoil his good mood.  
"Sir, we're being approached by a civilian yacht. They're requesting permission to land in the main shuttlebay."  
"Any sign of hostilities? Explosives? Things that would be Not Good?" Stafford asked.  
"No, sir. They say they're on a courier mission," Quintane replied, "I've checked with Starfleet, and they've confirmed the identity and registry of the ship,"  
"Fair enough," Stafford said, "Let them dock and send security down to see what they want,"  
"Yes sir. And sir?"  
"Yes, Lieutenant?"  
"They say they're from Guiananco," Quintane said.  
Half a dozen heads snapped in Stafford's direction. Yanick dropped the glass she was holding while T'Parief blew his Gorn Gutwrencher out through his nostrils.  
"I'm on my way," Stafford snapped, his drink forgotten.

"Hey handsome,"  
For the 5th time, Steven turned around as a spark of hope flared in him. For the 5th time, that hope was crushed as he beheld a half-human/half-Klingon of the decidedly male variety.  
"Sorry, bud," Steven sighed, "I'm here for the ladies. I don't suppose you could point me in the direction of bar that might cater to women of the straight variety?"  
The hybrid laughed.  
"They all appeal to the straight women," he said, patting Steven on the shoulder, "Mostly so they can get away from guys like you!"  
"Yeah, well," Steven shrugged the man's arm off, "If you find any…"  
"I'll send them right on over," the man looked thoughtful, "Y'know, come to think of it, I do know this one girl who might be looking for a little action. Yeah, she was at a friend's place earlier for drinks. I'd be happy to show you there,"  
Steven looked around. Clearly he wasn't going to have much luck with the women in this place. They were all cavorting around, dancing in groups with handsome young Klingons, humans and so forth and paying no attention to him whatsoever.  
"Lead on," he shrugged.

The hybrid, who's name was Kraig by the way, led Steven over the nearby District border and into the city/colony section of the resort. They were heading to a 'friend's place', where a house party (and hopefully a woman for Steven) awaited. After walking in silence for a few moments, Steven spoke up.  
"So, uh, lived here long?" he asked.  
"About a year," Kraig shrugged.  
"So you're, uh," Steven searched for a delicate way to put it, "um, one of those men that likes other men?"  
"That's one way of putting it,"  
"Ah, well, good for you for being so open about it," Steven said quickly, "I mean, I know there's nothing wrong with that sort of thing, not in this day and age!"  
Kraig chuckled.  
"Y'know," he said, "it's the people who go out of their way to point out that they're OK with something that are more likely to have problems with it. The ones that are really OK with something just be themselves. Sort of like the dozens of women you saw back at that bar that were completely ignoring you and dancing with all of us,"  
"I still don't get that," Steven shrugged.  
"What do you do for a living?" Kraig asked.  
"I run a bar on a starship,"  
"So you, like, got sick of people coming to you for drinks, or advice, or those tasty little blood-nuts and decided to get away from it all?" Kraig raised an eyebrow as he glanced towards Steven,"  
"Something like that," Steven said, moving slightly further away.  
"So doesn't it make sense that a woman might get sick of guys coming to her for her comm-code, or to tell her how pretty she looks, or whatever cheesy line they happen to come up with?" Kraig turned to regard the backside of a very attractive Rigellian passing by, then turned back to Steven, "Don't you think they might want a vacation from that?"  
"No!" Steven said, gulping as the Rigellian flashed a disarming smile in his direction before going on his way, "I can't understand why they'd want to surround themselves with guys who wouldn't show them any interest at all!"  
"They don't want interest right now," Kraig said, "they get that at home. Here, they want friendship, fun and nice guys who aren't going to take advantage of them. Women have been hanging around men like us, well, me anyway, for centuries. Human women, anyway. Klingon society is a little bit different,"  
"I was meaning to ask about that," Steven said, turning to check out a really hot, large-breasted Orion woman. His heart fell a little when he notices that the man holding hands with her was actually a mannish-looking human woman. Maybe they'd be interested in a little 'male companionship'…  
"I know what you're thinking," Kraig said, following Steven's gaze, "and unless you want them to kill you, I wouldn't ask if I were you. But you were about to ask me about Klingon society?"  
"Right," Steven said, "I mean, I'm sorry, but I can't see anything honourable about getting it on with other guys. And isn't Klingon society based on honor and glory?"  
Kraig nodded.  
"Humans," he said with a sigh, "you all consider yourselves to be so open-minded, so accepting. And yet you continue to paint every race you meet with as broad a brush as possible,"  
"Aren't you half human?" Steven asked.  
"Yup. That's why I can get away with saying shit like that," Kraig laughed, "But seriously: Most of the humans that have come into contact with Klingons for the past few centuries have been in Starfleet. And which Klingons do your soldiers encounter?"  
"Klingon soldiers?" Steven ventured.  
"Exactly," Kraig stabbed a finger in Steven's direction, "You get most of your perceptions of Klingons from Klingon soldiers and Klingon politicians. And the politicians all worked their way through the military to get to their position. But there are Klingon farmers, Klingon tailors and Klingon grocery store clerks! There are Klingons that battle the enemies of the Empire and others that make sure the water treatment plant for Imperial City is working properly. The soldiers may have the glory and honour of combat, but each Klingon works for the glory and honour of the Empire. Just as all humans work to contribute to your society, although most of them will never make it into the history books. Just as there will never be songs sung of me in the Hall of Warriors."  
"So how does your, um, type contribute?" Steven asked.  
"We are the most tolerant, welcoming and diplomatic Klingons you will meet," Kraig said sharply, "otherwise I would have had to maim you for questioning my worth!"  
"Right, sorry."  
"We were to be outcasts," Kraig said, "but since the Empire acknowledged our value, we have contributed to the Empire by paying taxes on the latinum generated by the resorts on this world. Every now and then someone in the Empire will declare that we are all going to Gre'thor, where we will be consumed by some demon or another. Which demon it will be depends on the day of the week, the positions of the stars and whether or not the targling saw his shadow on the first sunrise of the new season,"  
"So, they booted you out, then annexed you back to tax the hell out of you, but you're still proud to be part of the Empire?"  
"We are still Klingons," Kraig said firmly, "even though my mother was human, my father raised me in the ways of the Empire. And I am proud to be part of it."  
"I bet Lieutenant Jall would have loved to have come here," Steven mused to himself. He really didn't know what else to say. Kraig had hit it right on the nail there. Steven had thought himself to be an open-minded, accepting 24th century human. He lived on a ship with dozens of different alien races and considered himself to be welcoming to all of them. But when was the last time he stopped to think about the different types of people in each race? There were bound to be Andorians who deplored violence, just as there were humans who embraced it. There would be Bolians who thought that Bolarus should cut off contact with the Federation, even as most of their society welcomed it to the point where they were integrating facets of different cultures into their own. If Earth could have soldiers, environmentalists, doctors, artists and Atheists, was it really so hard to believe that there would be Klingons to whom battle wasn't the beginning and end of existence?  
"We have arrived," Kraig said, slapping Steven on the back before banging on the heavy wooden door they had reached, "Khres! Bhen! Open up!"  
There was a commotion behind the door before it popped open. Loud music poured out, at Steven could see about a dozen people of various races drinking and laughing.  
The Klingon who had opened the door, presumably Khres or Bhen, wound up and socked Kraig across the jaw. Kraig punched him right back, before being gripped in a firm hug.  
Steven flinched back at about half the speed of light when the Klingon turned to him.  
"Easy on him, Khris," Kraig laughed, holding the Klingons arm back from punching, "He's human, and he's after that woman who was here before. Is she still around?"  
"Oh!" Khris looked down at Steven, somewhat in the way one might regard a moderately interesting insect, "Yes. Last time I checked, she was trying to talk Bhen into giving her a strip show," there was a roar of laughter and applause from the room behind him. Khris looked over his shoulder, "Oh. It appears she has succeeded," he shook his head, "she sure can't hold her liquor! But by Khaless, she looks good in a thong!"  
"The woman?" Steven asked quietly.  
"Bhen," Kraig said.  
"But he said-"  
"Khris calls everybody 'she'," Kraig explained, "don't ask why. Nobody has managed to figure it out yet,"  
"Er, right," Steven said, somewhat uncomfortable. Unconsciously, he had crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders, trying to avoid touching anything or anybody as Kraig led him into the house. Kraig's words about tolerance and acceptance rang through his head, but he still found himself flinching any time one of the partygoers got a little to close to his personal space.  
As they entered, Khris was dragging a stocky Orion, presumably Bhen by the lack of apparel, out of the room amid hoots and jeers. Steven gulped as nearly a dozen pairs of eyes flicked in his direction, moving up and down as they carefully appraised him before going back to their conversations.  
"Maybe I'll just go back to my rooms," Steven said, edging towards the door.  
"Nonsense!" Kraig said, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him back in, "You will meet a woman! It has become my mission!"  
"Er, right."  
They were approaching a tall, slim woman. Her back was too them as she laughed at something amusing her companion had just said. Steven immediately forgot about the rest of the room's occupants as he noticed the wonderful shape of her body. Slim waist, perfect buttocks, slender arms and a beautiful cascade of dark hair.  
"Sweety," Kraig said, putting a hand on her arm, "Sorry to interrupt, but I believe you told me to let you know if we found any nice straight guys for you?"  
"Oh, yes!" she spun around, flashing a smile at Steven.  
She frowned.  
"YOU!"  
Steven gasped.  
"YOU!"  
Samantha, valued employee of Unbalanced Equations, proceeded to spend about 5 minutes laughing hysterically at her boss and he crossed his arms and glared.  
"This is your idea of an eligible woman?" Steven demanded of Kraig.  
Kraig shrugged.  
"How was I to know you already knew her? She is attractive, and seeking the intimate attentions of a man such as you,"  
Steven jumped as a meaty hand planted itself firmly on his behind.  
"I was hoping you would come tonight," a low voice whispered in his ear,"  
"AHHH!" Steven yelled, spinning around and finding himself face to face with Fruge, the bellhop from the hotel.  
"Oh yeah," Samantha laughed, "I snuck his little invitation out of your bag! He was pretty disappointed when you didn't show up with me."  
Speechless, Steven threw his hands up the air before stalking angrily out the door and back in the direction of his hotel.  
"Was it something I said?" Fruge asked Kraig and Samantha.

Stafford paced anxiously in his ready room, waiting for the representative from Guiananco to arrive. He would have gone directly to the shuttlebay himself, but Noonan had cautioned him against that action. According to Noonan, he would be in a much stronger position if he allowed the Guinanco rep to come to him.  
Guiananco Corporation was steadily spreading among the various ships and stations of the Federation fleet. The head of Guiananco, a woman by the name of Guinan, had taken the experience she had gained from running Ten-Forward aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise and had founded Guinanco to help bring other starship lounges up to the level of sophistication of Ten-Forward.  
With the patented 'saucer-hats' and their tendency to divide their property into 'advice' and 'non-advice' sections, Guinanco had been an immediate success among some of the most prestigious ships on the fleet. Elegant receptions, relaxed atmospheres and peaceful celebrations were Guinanco's forte.  
But although Guinanco enjoyed a high level of success among the high-class (ie boring) ships of the fleet, it had become a name feared and cursed by the 'other' ships. The ships that liked their drinks strong and their music loud were not fans of Guinanco, with their low noise levels and 22:00h closing time. And so even though Guinanco had holdings on ships such as the Secondprize and the Explorer, the crews were less than happy about it. Fortunately the crew of the Explorer had other options such as Ship's Shoppes and Mirk's to keep them busy.  
Guinanco had been asked to run Silverado's lounge by Operation Salvage, the project that had overseen Silverado's renovations. Fortunately, their representative had left after seeing the poor condition of the ship, leaving Stafford to go hunting for his own bartender. He'd picked a random name out of the listing, hired Steven Steiger and considered himself lucky.  
So why was Guinanco here now? Hopefully Stafford would soon have the chance to ask.  
BE-DEEP!  
Stafford quickly darted behind his desk, knocking his Silverado model off the edge. He caught it seconds before it could smash on the deck, fumbling for a moment before setting it back on the display stand. Sitting in his chair and clearing his throat, he spoke up.  
"Enter,"  
The doors hissed open revealing an impeccably groomed woman of average build. Her dirty blond hair was pulled back in a professional looking ponytail, her business suit was perfectly pressed.  
"Greetings," she said, her British accent somehow giving the common word a sense of class, "My name is Patsy Horton. I am the representative sent by Guinanco and it will be my pleasure to assume operation of the lounge on Deck 12."  
"Captain Christopher Stafford," Stafford replied, "And I'm happy with my current lounge staff. May I show you the door?"  
"I've seen it, thank you," Horton replied coldly, "it's quite lovely. But perhaps there has been a misunderstanding. We at Guinanco received word that your lounge manager had left, and so we are most eager to ensure that your crew has a quiet place to relax."  
"You heard wrong," Stafford said, "He's on vacation. He's going to be back in a few weeks. So thanks for dropping by."  
"I see," Horton sighed, "there has indeed been a misunderstanding. As per Starfleet's standing contract with Guinanco, any starship lounge that is unoccupied is open to Guinanco administration. We will be taking over your lounge immediately."  
"Whoah!" Stafford snapped, "Who the hell do you think you are? It is not 'unoccupied'! We have a contract with our current manager, and I'm not breaking it for a bunch of hippie freaks in funny hats!"  
"You have little choice in the matter. I assure you, my family has been in the restaurant service industry since the 20th century. I promise you I will operate a calming and pleasant establishment,"

Meanwhile…

Trish Yanick was pooped. She'd been running around fixing drinks behind the bar for nearly 4 hours. Shortly after Stafford had left, many of the families and teenagers had slowly drained out of the lounge as more off-duty crewmembers eased in. The music was turned up, and Yanick was serving more and more mixed drinks and fewer coffees and milkshakes. Jall had just dragged Fifebee onto the dance floor when the sound system shut down.  
"Greetings everybody," announced a portly looking man dressed in dark blue, "This facility is under new ownership! I'm pleased to announce that this is now a Guinanco establishment. We have many new and exciting renovations in store for you that I'm sure you'll find both relaxing and entertaining. Sadly, we will need to close immediately to commence our renovations. Thank you all."  
"What?" Trish snapped, "I'm in charge here!"  
"Not anymore. Have a pleasant evening."  
"The Captain will hear about this!" Yanick cried, stomping her foot.

"And so," Horton finished as Stafford tapped his fingers on his desk, "I'm sure you'll find Guinanco management to be far superior to any independents you might have hired. We promise a relaxing environment where a listening ear or shoulder to cry on will always be within easy reach,"  
"Your idea of relaxing is our idea of BORING!" Stafford snapped, "I've read the brochures, seen the advertisements. We like Unbalanced Equations the way it is!"  
The doors hissed open as Ensign Yanick stormed in without knocking.  
"Captain!" she wailed, "these people just kicked everybody out of the Silver Star!"  
"What?" Stafford demanded, turning to Horton.  
"That lounge is now Guiananco property," Horton shrugged, "We must renovate,"  
Stafford glared at her, then started tapping at his terminal, opening a little used direct channel to his superior at Starfleet HQ.  
"Tunney here," Admiral Edward Tunney said calmly, his goateed visage appearing on Stafford's terminal, "Captain Stafford! Long time no see. I rather liked it that way, actually. What do you want?"  
Stafford quickly filled Tunney in on the situation.  
Tunney shook his head.  
"Corporations just keep getting more and more arrogant," he sighed, "Yours is the 6th complaint against Guinanco in the past week,"  
"And what did you tell those other 5 captains?" Stafford asked, looking briefly at Patsy Horton.  
"'Too bad'," Tunney shrugged, "And that's a quote. Guinanco is within their contract rights, although I'd like to get my hands on whomever it was at Starfleet Command that signed that contract,"  
"But Guinanco turned us down originally!" Stafford protested, "We've got a contract with somebody else now!"  
"I see," Tunney frowned, "Just give me a minute," a 'hold' symbol appeared.  
"While we wait," Horton went on, "I have several other changes I'd like to implement as soon as possible,"  
Stafford stared at her blankly. Misinterpreting his restrained hostility as a sign to continue, Horton pulled up a diagram of Silverado on her padd.  
"Now," she said, "the Ambassador-class ships were Starfleet's first attempt at a so-called 'city-ship'. Families, civilian population, extended facilities and so forth. I feel that in this case, we aren't placing enough focus on this. For example, your fitness facility,"  
"Yes," Stafford said flatly, "We have a gym. People use it now and then. I go there myself,"  
"Indeed," Horton nodded, her clipped British tones becoming slightly more clipped, "You have a weight room, aerobics and aerobatic facilities, private exercise rooms, a pool, sauna and whirlpool, a team sports facility-"  
"I know what we have," Stafford snapped, glancing at the 'hold' symbol still displayed on his screen, "What's you're point?"  
"It has no name," Horton said, spreading her hands like this was a great shock, "We could vastly improve crew usage and attendance with a stylish name. I've been thinking 'The Ambassador's Club', or perhaps 'The Silver Medal Spa',"  
"I'm thinking you can kiss my-"  
Stafford was cut off as Admiral Tunney reappeared on the screen.  
"OK," he said, "I've had a quick chat with our legal department. Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"  
"Good news," Stafford said.  
"OK," Tunney replied, "Uh, could you please turn me to face Ms. Horton?"  
Stafford spun the terminal screen around to face the woman.  
"Ms. Horton," Tunney said, "As per Section 4, Paragraph 2 of the Guiananco contract, I regret to inform you that due to Guiananco's previous rejection of Silverado as a franchise site, Steven Steiger's contract is valid and binding until he sees fit to terminate it,"  
"YES!" Stafford cheered, "Stafford to Security, I want every Guinanco employee out of Unbalanced Equations and back on their ship, NOW!"  
"Hold on, Captain," Tunney went on, "Um, could you turn me around again please?"  
Stafford spun the terminal back to face him.  
"Whoa," Tunney groaned, dizzy from the spin, "Uh, now for the bad new: As per our contract, we still have to allow Guinanco to open a franchise on Silverado if they so desire,"  
"What?" Stafford snapped, "Why?"  
"Because I said so," Tunney snapped back, "You've got two mess halls, why don't you let them take one? Now, if you'll excuse me, Gail is waiting at home, and she gets rather cranky when I'm late. Tunney out." The screen went blank.  
"Well," Horton said, frowning, "That was unexpected,"  
"Right," Stafford said, half to her, half to himself.  
"Regardless," Horton forced a smile back on her face, "We have some business arrangements to discuss."

"So we're giving up the Officer's Mess?" Jall asked, "Meh, better that then the bar,"  
The senior staff had gathered in the conference lounge following Stafford's meeting with Ms. Horton. Wowryk, Jeffery, Yanick, T'Parief, Fifebee and Noonan were all gathered around the table. Everybody had been relieved to hear that Guinanco wasn't getting their paws on their drinking hole, but few other opinions had been offered.  
"So, what does this mean for our food?" T'Parief asked.  
"Well," Stafford shrugged, "private replicators, the Junior Mess and Silver Star-"  
"Unbalanced Equations," Yanick pouted, "Those Guiananco jerks took all my stuff down before you kicked them out. I'm not going through THAT again!"  
"Of course," Noonan soothed her as T'Parief put an arm around her shoulder, "It was good of you to help out as much as you did,"  
"You're welcome," Yanick gave a small smile.  
"Right," Stafford cleared his throat. Cleared it again. Finally, he said softly:  
"Mr. T'Parief? Not here, please, you're on duty,"  
T'Parief gave a snort of surprise, then took his arm off his girlfriend.  
"Thank you," Stafford said quietly, "Right then. Guiananco will be reopening the Officer's Mess in two days,"  
"I think it would be in the best interest of moral and crew community if we had a familiar facility running," Noonan said, "Which means we need somebody to run Unbalanced Equations until Steven gets back."  
Glances were exchanged around the table.  
"Mr. Jeffery?" Stafford inquired.  
"No can do," Jeffery said, "Ah'm refurbishing the gravity generators on Deck 6,"  
Wowryk raised a hand to speak.  
"And yes," Jeffery cut her off, "Ah've advised the residents of that deck to take plenty of anti-nausea medication. Ah know how much ye hated 'Vomit-Fest 768' when Ah refurbished Deck 20,"  
"Thank you," Wowryk gave a curt nod.  
"How about you, Doc?" Stafford asked, "Feel like running the bar for a few days?"  
Wowryk opened her mouth to speak.  
"I'm kidding," Stafford laughed, "I know, synthohol, drink of the devil, yada, yada, blah, blah and so forth,"  
"Ohh, I like this game," laughed Jall, "Can we all play 'Cut Off the Doc' more often?"  
"Only if you want me to cut something off of you!" Wowryk snapped, glaring hard at Jall while he smiled back innocently.  
"Alright," Stafford said, shaking his head, "I think the fair thing to do would be for all of us to pitch in and work together to give Guinanco some competition. Still, I propose we just made Jall do it. All in favor?"  
Hands went up.  
"All opposed?"  
Hands went down.  
"Have fun, Lieutenant," Stafford said, I'm sure after the little riot you inspired at Deneria, something like this won't be much of a problem for you. Just, uh, do us a favor and try not to inspire a riot. Or run illegal gaming tables. Or do things that would get you tossed in the brig."

Steven, Samantha, Mary and Becky had joined up for breakfast. Well, it was supposed to be breakfast, but what with the girls being out all night, breakfast had turned first into brunch, then into lunch. Then into more of a mid-afternoon snack.  
The ladies were still somewhat tired. Steven, on the other hand, had enjoyed a good night sleep in the privacy of his own hotel room, 100 percent alone. The thought of exploring the resort had crossed his mind, but one look at the crowd outside, most of which was scanty clad (to be polite) had convinced him that the best thing to do would be to wait for the protection of the women before he ventured anywhere.  
The women.  
Steven sighed to himself.  
"You're not still upset about last night, are you Steve?" Samantha asked.  
"Upset?" Steven mumbled, looking into his raktajino, "Why would I possibly be upset?'  
"Cuz," Becky popped another gum bubble, "The only available chick you found was Samantha? That sound like enough to upset any self-respecting man!"  
"Oh shut up," Steven grumbled.  
"You're not one to talk, you trashy little-"  
"After I finished at this amazing spa, I spent most of the night partying with this charming couple," Mary said cutting off Samantha and spreading some kind of weird purple sauce on some kind of weird green bread, "They took me to see 'Kiss me, Turtlehead' at the big theatre in the Colony District. Funniest thing I've seen in years!"  
"Charming," Steven muttered.  
"Well I had a fantastic time," Samantha smiled, "After I finished with our bellhop's party, his friend Dieno took me to this wonderful after hours place. We were there talking for hours, then we went to-"  
"His apartment?" Steven ventured.  
"She met up with us," Mary cut in, "And we went down to the beach, then home."  
"So all three of you had a great time?"  
"The best," Becky laughed, "We're meeting them for dinner tonight!"  
"Yippee for you," Steven sighed, getting up.  
"Where are you going?" Becky asked.  
"Back to my room. Maybe there's a sight-seeing guide, or a club listing or SOMETHING. There's got to be SOME eligible young women on this planet!"  
"You should have gone to Risa," Becky advised.  
"Now she brings up Risa," Steven sighed.

Stafford paced in his private dining room. It wasn't all that private at the moment, as Noonan was sitting at the table, watching Stafford pace back and forth. Stars streaked past the forward windows.  
Stafford had never really figured out why exactly Silverado needed a Captain's Private Dining Room. Really, what was the point? He could either eat in the Officer's Mess, or use the replicator in his quarters. He supposed it had to do with that whole floating city/embassy concept behind the Ambassador and Galaxy class ships; impress foreign dignitaries, provide comfortable living environments and create an atmosphere of community. Right. Whatever. He used it on rare occasions, though he never really bothered to press the little button that would summon a steward from the lower decks to take his order.  
With Guinanco renovating the Officer's Mess and Jall running Unbalanced Equations, Stafford had retreated to his dining room to muse.  
"I'm really starting to wonder if putting Jall in charge of the lounge was such a good idea," Stafford mused, pacing back and forth. See? I told you he was musing!  
"Of course it wasn't," Noonan said, "It was simply the most convenient solution for most of the staff and the least convenient for Jall,"  
"And usually that's good enough," Stafford said, "But I'm starting to wonder,"  
"Certainly not one of your better decisions," Noonan said, "Indeed, had it been a decision relating to the ship and crew as opposed to only the lounge, I would have had to question your judgment,"  
"In the future, you really could have mentioned something a little earlier," Stafford said, deap-pan.  
"I have a novel idea," Noonan said, "we could go downstairs and see exactly what Jall has come up with,"  
"I'm almost afraid to," Stafford stopped, looking out the window.  
"Sylvia," Stafford said, addressing the computer personality, "What do you think? Is it safe to head down to the lounge, or am I going to regret it?"  
"Go out," Sylvia suggested, her image appearing on a wall display, "Relax, have fun. Try to loosen up a bit while you're at it. You really do need to socialize more, try to meet some nice girl-"  
"Great," Stafford muttered, "relationship advice from a computer. Just what I need. C'mon, Matt. Let's go."  
As Noonan turned to follow, he was pretty sure he saw Sylvia wink at him before she vanished from the screen. This could prove interesting.

Stepping out of the turbolift, Stafford walked towards Unbalanced Equations, fighting the urge to turn and run with every step. What the hell was he thinking? Jall already had a history of behaving irresponsibly, especially in regards to crew entertainment. What would it be this time? Cheesy vaudeville? Would he turn the place into a low-class burlesque house?  
Coming around the corner, he found a small line of crewmen and women waiting behind a velvet rope. Ensign Buck was standing behind the rope with a checklist. He could see flashing lights through the small windows in the doors, and he could hear a heavy beat playing.  
"Captain," Buck smiled, unhooking the rope "please, go right in,"  
"Uh, right," Stafford closed his eyes and stepped through the door.  
THUMP!  
"Son of a-" Stafford cut himself off, opening his eyes and rubbing his nose.  
Snickering to themselves, the doors opened.  
Stafford's stomach dropped.  
The place was packed with hollering, drunken people. Which was really nothing new. What was new was the photos of scantily clad men and women decorating the walls and the two stages that had been setup in the back corners of the room. To port, a woman from Ship's Services writhed around a steel pole, her skimpy bikini barely containing her breasts. To starboard, a stocky, muscular man from Security was crouched down while Nurse Veeneman slipped replicator rations into his jockstrap.  
Seeing red, Stafford quickly located Jall standing behind the bar. Stalking over, he grabbed the Operations Officer by the collar and dragged him over the bar.  
"What the hell are you doing?" Stafford roared while Noonan looked on, amused, "This is, this is…THIS IS…"  
"Wrong and inappropriate?" Noonan ventured.  
"Wrong and inappropriate!" Stafford snapped, "I have half a mind to throw you in the brig!"  
"Captain," Jall said quickly, a weak smile on his face, "Before you do anything, look over there!"  
Stafford looked, just in time to see the skimpy bikini go flying across the room.  
"Oh my," Stafford said, eying the gorgeous woman on stage.  
Something else smacked into the side of his head. Stafford reached up, finding the jockstrap from the male stripper hanging off one ear.  
"OH GOD!" he shouted, flinging the thing away in disgust, "Sick! That's it! Stafford to security! I want this place shut down, NOW!"

Steven wandered through the streets of Kliding Moutain resort, avoiding the bars, the clubs and the casinos. After night had fallen he'd finally gotten sick of hiding in his hotel room and had ventured into the outside world, to no avail. He'd been rejected by more beautiful women that he would have ever though possible. It just boggled the mind! Each and every one of them said the exact same thing: Oh, that's so sweet of you, but 'Male A' and 'Male B' are taking me to 'insert event here', and I'm really not looking for a date, so why don't you just crawl into a corner and die?  
Well, OK, they didn't say that last part, but they might as well have.  
Not that he wasn't attracting attention.  
Kraig had called him 4 times, trying to talk him into going to different parties, insisting that this time he really COULD find a woman for Steven. Right. After the horrible time he'd had the last time he'd followed Kraig somewhere, there was no way he was going to say yes. That, and Samantha kept suggesting that he really should call Fruge and that a little experimentation would be good for him. Steven had explained to her, yet again, that it was women he was after, and that he really had no interest in any experiments that didn't involve him and at least three nude female cheerleaders.  
Sighing to himself and swatting at some annoying bug, Steven dodged a streetlight and turned the corner, noticing a beautiful redheaded human woman walking up the street.  
All by herself.  
Hmmm.  
Swallowing and trying not to be distracted by the gently sway of her hips, Steven came alongside.  
"Uh, hello," he said, "Nice night. How's it going?"  
"Hey there," she smiled, "It's a beautiful night! Care to keep me company?"  
"Would I?" Steven grinned, "Absolutely!"  
"Great, I'm Lisa," she flipped her hair back and grabbed Steven by the wrist, "C'mon, I know this great bar just down the street!"  
"Uh," Steve hesitated, "you don't have a, um, girlfriend. Do you?"  
"Of course not, silly," she laughed, "I like guys."  
"Excellent," Steven smiled.

Lisa turned out to be excellent company, as Steven was thrilled to learn. On the way to bar, she'd surprised him by bringing up the score of the previous nights BrockBall game. (BrockBall was a popular sport among aquatic races, involving three teams and a ball made from a spiny pufferfish).  
Once they got to the bar and she bought him a drink, while directing him to a table seat close to the stage, he started to get suspicious.  
"So," he said carefully, "What do you do?"  
"Oh," Lisa giggled, "I work in the hospitality industry, over at Hotel Zion,"  
"Charming," Steven chose his next words carefully, "And you're off-duty, right?"  
"Sure!" Lisa said happily, "Off-duty and on my own time. Just hoping to find a man in this place that wouldn't mind some female companionship," she winked suggestively.  
Off-duty was great, but Steven still didn't have the information he wanted. Frustrated, he decided to go for the direct approach.  
"You're not a man underneath, are you?' he asked slowly, mentally preparing for a backlash of Dr. Wowryk proportions if she took offense.  
She didn't.  
"Of course not," Lisa said, smiling, "But I'll tell you a little secret: I think you're wasting time on men,"  
"Excuse me?" Steven asked.  
"Sure, they might be fun to look at," Lisa went on, "but I can assure you, I have skills and abilities you can only dream of…"  
As Lisa went on, Steven came to a shocking realization.  
She thought he was gay!  
Even as he opened his mouth to deny it, to explain to her that he really had no interest in men, another realization struck.  
She wanted to spend time with him anyway.  
Well then.

T'Parief strolled through the corridors, first thing in the morning. He'd spend extra time grooming himself for the day; shining and sharpening his fangs, giving his scales an extra scrub and even cracking open the bottle of reptilian bodywash Yanick had given him.  
"Morning, Lt. Cmdr," Ensign Marsden waved from the security desk as T'Parief walked in to the security office.  
"Good morning, Ensign," T'Parief said, giving a small smile, "anything I should know about?"  
"Naw, things were pretty quiet after we shut down the lounge," Marsden said, "Although we did have a toddler running around Deck 13 in his diaper," Marsden spun his chair around to tap at one of the security panels lining the back wall.  
"Thank you," T'Parief said, turning to head into the squad room, "I don't need to see it."  
Stepping up to the equipment rack, T'Parief slipped his off-duty phaser into a charging slot and pulled his on-duty phaser out. Several members of the security staff passed through, getting ready to start their days.  
Passing through the outer office again, T'Parief greeted Ensign Rengs before turning back to Marsden.  
"I will be on the bridge until 10:30 hours," he stated calmly, "Keep an eye on those Guiananco folk,"  
"Of course," Marsden nodded. T'Parief walked out.  
"What the hell was that?" Rengs asked once their boss was our of earshot, "I haven't seen him that cheerful before,"  
"This must be Jall's first time getting tossed in the brig since you got here," Marsden said.

Noonan, Stafford and the senior officer, except for Jall, had gathered in the conference lounge to discuss hiring a new bar manager.  
"Did you really have to toss poor Jall in the brig?" Yanick whined, "It's not like anybody got hurt-"  
"Strippers," Stafford said firmly, "Starship. Big no-no."  
"So who's gonna run the bar now?" Jeffery asked, "None of us would make a decent bartender.  
"Actually," Noonan said, "I have a suggestion,"  
"Great, I was hoping you would," Stafford smiled. He sniffed at the air.  
"Does anybody smell that?" he asked.  
"That sort of fruity scent?" Jeffery spoke up, nodding, "Aye, Ah smell it."  
"Could it be a problem with the air circulation systems?" Stafford asked Fifebee.  
"I doubt it,"  
"Did anybody bring fruit with them to the meeting?"  
Everybody shook his or her heads. T'Parief swallowed and gazed at the table.  
"I was," he said quietly, "trying a new bodywash,"  
Stafford exchanged glances with Yanick and Jeffery. Bit his lip hard to keep himself from laughing at his very skilled and deadly security chief.  
"Smells nice," he forced out, "So, Noonan, on to your idea…"

"Good morning everybody!" Steven said happily, grabbing a chair. He'd met the girls at Chez C'Zangos, a Bolian place specializing in all-day breakfast, "Hey, what's he doing here?"  
Looking mildly offended, Kraig rose one eyebrow.  
"We invited him," Mary said firmly.  
"This isn't one of your hair-brained experimentation things-"  
"Don't be silly!" Becky picked at a slice of purple melon, "Kraig's been so good about showing us around we wanted to take him for breakfast,"  
"Ah," Steven shrugged, "Oh well. The more the merrier!"  
"And why are you so happy this morning?" Mary asked.  
"I bet I know," Samantha said with a grin, "Somebody got lucky last night, didn't he?"  
"Well, not quite," Steven admitted, "But I did meet somebody. And we're going out again!"  
"And what about when we leave? You're just gonna love her then leave her?" Becky asked, stabbing her fork in the air towards Steven, "Have your fun and take off? It's guys like you that send women like us to places like this!"  
Steven shrugged.  
"It's not like I'm leading her on, or promising to love her forever," he said, "And by the way, she's stopping by to say hi, so be nice!"  
Shortly after Steven's breakfast arrived, so did Lisa.  
"Hi everybody," she said, flashing a big smile. She shook each of the women's hands before turning to Kraig.  
"And this must be your boyfriend!" she said, "Well, he is pretty to look at. I'll just have to outperform him,"  
"Er, yeah," Steven said, trying to smile, "Right,"  
"You should bring him with us tonight," Lisa said, "I bet we could have lots of fun together,"  
"Oh, I think he's too busy-" Steven started.  
"Consider me there," Kraig smiled, wrapping one arm around Steven's shoulders.  
"Later boys," Lisa gave one last smile as she left.  
Steven pried Kraig's arm off and pushed the other man away.  
"Yuck," he sneered, "Do you mind?"  
"What the hell was that?" demanded Mary.  
"Well," Steven was sheepish, "She kinda thinks I, uh, play on Kraig's team. And she wants to try to get me to join her team,"  
"She's a Converter," Kraig sighed, "Another one!"  
"A what?" Becky asked.  
"Some kind of bizarre Order," Kraig explained, "They send their members from planet to planet, trying to turn people away from the 'evils of society'."  
"I've never heard of them," Mary frowned.  
"They're low key," Kraig said, "They avoid big public statements and prefer more subtle ways of convincing people,"  
"Like sending hot women to seduce gay men?" Steven nodded, "Cool. Well, I hope there's more of them around!"  
"There are," Kraig said, shaking his head, "Horrible waste of time. Those poor guys they seduce just end up lost and confused," he frowned, "Or in detox. I know it would take a lot of booze to get ME to do that!"  
"I think you're sick," Mary snapped, "Not you, Kraig. The other guy. The one lying to women for his own sick purposes!"  
Steven shrugged.  
"Men have been doing it for centuries," he said, "besides, how many women have manipulated men to get what they want!"  
"We've never done it to get sex!" Becky snapped, "I mean yeah, we use sex to get what we want, but-"  
"I'm a man!" Steven exclaimed, "sex IS what I want!"

Stafford swallowed nervously at the doors to Unbalanced Equations, his bridge shift having just ended. When Noonan had shared his choice for temporary bar manager, Stafford had been pleasantly surprised that it wasn't something inane like putting Sylvia in charge. But the more he thought about it, the more he wasn't sure Noonan's idea was a good one.  
Marshalling himself, Stafford walked through the door.  
The first thing that hit him was the smell. Fresh, chocolate brownies.  
The lounge was virtually unchanged from Steven's reign, which worked out well since Steven would be back soon, but for some reason everybody was eating chocolate brownies. Near the windows, in the booths, at the bar. Everybody. There was also a very strange atmosphere. Stafford couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about the mood of the place was different.  
Walking up to the bar, Stafford took a seat.  
"Heya, monkey!" Crewman Gibson greeted him cheerfully, "Welcome to 'Gibson's Bakery'!  
"I'm your Captain," Stafford said, picking up a small brownie, "not a monkey!"  
"Uh, right," Gibson looked back at him expectantly.  
"What?" Stafford finally asked.  
"Aren't ya gonna eat it?" Gibson asked, looking back innocently.  
Shrugging, Steven took a bite.

Thirty minutes later;

"It's like, wow, we live in this big city," Stafford said, eyes glazed, "Except we're not in a city. Cities are on land. We're in the sky. We're, like, this whole, big sky city,"  
"Dude," Crewman Shwaluk said softly, "that's so deep!"  
"Ah, Captain, I've been looking for you," Patsy Horton stepped into the lounge, "I require extra subspace communications bandwidth. Your replicator library for decorations is very lacking, and I simply must have appropriate, gorgeous little things for my new restaurant!"  
"People get food in restaurants," Gibson said dreamily.  
"Sort of like Mess Halls," Stafford said. He gasped.  
"Oh. My. God!" he said, pulling himself to his feet and wobbling slightly, "They're making the Mess Hall a restaurant!"  
"Oh please," Horton sighed, "We discussed this last week!"  
"Go away, scary pretty lady," Stafford wheezed, collapsing back to the couch,  
"Is there a problem?" Noonan asked calmly, moving to Horton's side.  
"Your Captain is out of his mind!" Horton said angrily.  
"Well, yes," Noonan said, "That is his normal state,"  
"I mean he's worse!" she snapped, "I need-"  
"Extra bandwidth," Noonan cut in, "Done. Gibson," Noonan carefully examined a plate of baked goods, then turned to where Gibson was leaning heavily on the bar, "What is in these brownies?"  
"Uhhh," Gibson scratched his head and swallowed, "Nothing?"  
Noonan sighed, the lie obvious even without his supernatural senses.  
"Noonan to Sickbay,"

1 hour of de-tox later:

"Stafford to Security! Arrest Crewman Gibson! The charge is distribution of restricted substances! 14 days confinement!"  
"You really need to stop throwing your bartenders in the brig," Noonan commented, standing by Stafford's biobed.  
"He gave me hash brownies!" Stafford snapped, "And he gave Ensign Dar'ugal tea spiked with hallucinogenic mushrooms! He thought his fur was on fire and ran through 4 fire extinguishers before we could sedate him!"  
"This isn't setting a good impression for Guinanco,"  
"And they open tomorrow," Stafford groaned.  
"What do you plan to do?" Noonan asked.  
"I plan to scan anything served to me with a tricorder," Stafford said, climbing to his feet, "I wouldn't put it past that Horton woman to try to make me sick!"

"Did you really have to tag along?" Steve growled as he sat at a table with Kraig. Lisa had taken them to one of the calmer clubs, which had Kraig in a bad mood, and Kraig had insisted on coming along, which had Steve in a bad mood.  
"Look, p'tack," Kraig growled, "I told you it would be my mission to see that you find a woman, and honor demands that I see this through!"  
"Right, honor," Steven clenched his teeth. Right then. Kraig could ignore the rest of Klingon society by shacking up with another warrior, but as soon as it got in Steven's way of a hot woman, honor had to be satisfied.  
"I must help you maintain the charade," Kraig said firmly, "if she thought for one moment you liked women, she would lose all interest,"  
"Right," Steven muttered. Truth be told, he was having some serious second thoughts. He thought of himself a pretty nice guy, working hard to give the Silverado crew a place where they could relax and be themselves. It made perfect sense that since sleeping with customers would be against his morals, he should have his fun when he was on vacation. He was human, after all. He had wants and needs, desires that he had to fulfill. But was he really justified in lying to a kind, beautiful woman to get what he wanted?  
OK, so Lisa was really a scheming crusader nutcase who thought that she was doing the universe a favor through her 'conversions', but he only had Kraig's word on that. Right? Right! Maybe she really was genuinely interested in him. What if he was planning for a single night of hot sex while she was picking out a wedding gown? Well, if she was doing that after one date she sure wasn't the girl for him anyway!  
"Hi boys!" Lisa smiled brightly as she returned with their drinks, "I ordered doubles, I hope that's OK?"  
"Er, fine," Steven smiled, taking a small sip. Truth be told, he preferred to mix drinks rather than drink them, and he could tell that whoever had mixed this one, a Silver Cloud, had added WAY too much Terran Amoretto.  
"So," Steve said, "What shall we do?"  
"Well," Lisa said, "I have a suggestion, actually," she looked seductively at Steven, "Why don't we head back to my place and get more…intimate?"  
"Now you're talking!" Steven grinned.  
Lisa frowned.  
"That's weird," she said, "usually, um, I mean I wouldn't think that a guy would dump his boyfriend for a woman at the drop of a dime…"  
"Oh," Steven thought quickly, "um, he's fine with it. Really!"  
"Are you sure you're gay?" Lisa was still frowning at him.  
"Um," Steven hesitated; Sure, he wanted to get into Lisa's pants, but to actually say something like that? Even if it was a lie?"  
Steven's eyes flicked briefly to Lisa's breasts, swallowed, then put his arm over Kraig's shoulder.  
"Yeah," he said weakly, "Sure."  
"Fair enough," Lisa shrugged, "let's go,"  
Grinning, Steven got up to follow her.  
"Are you coming?" Lisa called back to the table.  
"Soon enough," smiled Steven.  
"I meant Kraig," Lisa looked at the half-Klingon.  
"Aren't you joining us? What, with you and your friend here being so close?"  
"I don't know if that-" Steven sputtered.  
"I insist," Lisa said, crossing her arms, "if you want me, he comes too," she uncrossed her arms and pressed her chest against Steven, "And I mean that in every meaning of the word,"  
Steven gulped.

Next day, 10 minutes before supper time:

"Something terrible is going to happen!"  
"I see," Noonan was silent as he followed Stafford into the corridor and towards the turbolift.  
As they entered the lift, Stafford turned to Noonan.  
"So what do you think?" he asked after a few moments of silence.  
"About what?" Noonan asked innocently.  
"About Guinanco!"  
"They are a corporation," Noonan shrugged, "As with any corporation, they have their advantages and disadvantages. Some will find their products and services appealing, while others despise them,"  
Stafford thought to himself for a moment.  
"Do you think we're doing the wrong thing here, trying to compete against them," Stafford lowered his voice as they stepped onto Deck 12, "Do you actually like their places?"  
"I enjoyed the Guinanco establishment on Spacedock," Noonan said, "I found it more conductive to quiet contemplation,"  
"Quiet contemplation," Stafford shook his head, "I really don't think that's in demand on this ship,"  
"No," Noonan agreed, "It most certainly isn't,"  
Stafford stopped in front of the doors to the Mess Hall, passing a small line of officers waiting to get in. Clearly, Patsy Horton was waiting for the Captain to arrive before opening. A wooden plaque had been attached to the corridor wall, the words 'Le Plateau Argenté' inscribed in the polished surface.  
"Le Platu Arjenty?" Stafford squinted, horribly mangling the words.  
"The Silver Platter," Noonan translated, "Classy,"  
"Stupid," Stafford snapped, "I'd be surprised if more than a quarter of the crew can figure out how to say it!"  
The doors swished open, revealing…  
The mess hall.  
"I thought she was going to redecorate?" Stafford murmured to Noonan.  
"She has," Noonan pointed out.  
Indeed, taking a closer look, Stafford could see that while the mess hall was, for the most part, unchaged, there had been several subtle additions.  
Understated artwork hung on the inner wall. The tables, which were normally bare, had been set with gleaming silver and simple but elegant china. Small vases held flowers from several worlds, while the serving counter extending from the entrance to the seldom-used kitchen had been converted into a service area. Behind the counter and beside the kitchen door was a large painting of Silverado pulling away from Waystation.  
"Would you like the advice or non-advise section?" Patsy Horton asked, coming up to the entrance. She wore the customary flowing robes and wide-brimmed hat of a Guinanco manager.  
"I thought it looked too good to be true," Stafford sighed.  
"Nice to see you too, Captain," Horton said, "Non-advise, I assume?"  
"Correct," Stafford said, "Noonan's here for advice. You are here for food,"  
"Yum, yum," Noonan muttered to himself, rolling his eyes.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to eat in the enlisted crewman's mess," the tiny waiter was trying to explain.  
"I eat here!" Crewman Kreklor snapped, his Klingon features firmly set in the stereotypical Klingon Snarl, "I have always eaten here! I will continue to eat here!"  
"B-but," the little man stuttered, "this facility is for officers only!"  
"We're officers," Stern said firmly as he and Marsden pushed their way ahead of Kreklor, "and we say he eats with us!"  
"W-well," the waiter gulped, "Guinanco policy does allow guests-"  
"Great," Stern nodded, "We'll take that table over there…"

Stafford sat with Noonan, Fifebee and Jall. For some inane reason, Horton had seated the single senior officers together while the two couples sat at another table. A few tables down the Hazardous Team was just being seated, the short Guinanco waiter looking rather timidly at Ensign Dar'ugal and Lieutenant Stern.  
"I will admit," Fifebee was saying, "I rather like the new dining environment. Much more elegant."  
"I don't really think 'elegant' is a word I've ever heard on Silverado," Jall said, looking around, "but I'll admit, this Patsy woman has good taste in décor. He work is subtle, a blending of Starfleet standard with a few classy touches here and there-"  
Stafford pinched the bridge of his nose.  
"Jall," he interrupted, "For just this evening, could you please not be yourself?"  
"Fifebee's the only one here that can swap personalities at will!" Jall grumbled.  
"Maybe she can give you lessons!"

Rengs Aris looked away from where Stafford and Jall were squabbling while Noonan watched on. Meris, his wife, had opted to replicate dinner in their quarters while she watched over the baby, but Aris had decided to eat with his teammates. Further down the table, Simmons and Kreklor were engaged in a heated debate over women. Again.  
"Look," Simmons said, "the problem with Klingon women is that they ALWAYS looks mean and nasty!"  
"You call that a problem?" Kreklor replied, "if so, I know this resort you might like-"  
"Well, it's not really a problem," Simmons admitted, "But they do it all the time! With a human chick, if she pulls out the old leather bustier and the knee-high boots, you know it's a special occasion-"  
Rengs winced, wondering for the hundredth time how many pieces his friends would be in if they ever voiced those thoughts in front of Meris.

Lieutenant Ovens sat at his table, right next to one of the windows and across from his girlfriend, Shelly. Lieutenant Ovens' duties varied from manning Auxiliary Control to commanding the bridge when Stafford or his night replacement, Quintane, was otherwise occupied. Shelly was part of Stellar Sciences, with a specialty in solar system development theory. The two of them had met on Silverado and had dated steadily for nearly a year.  
Ovens calmly spread butter on his bun, a basket of which having been delivered by the waiter.  
"So are you going to talk to Noonan about that promotion?" Shelly asked.  
"Um, maybe," Ovens said uneasily, eyes flicking around.  
"You should!" Shelly insisted, "With the amount of responsibilities you have, you should be a Lieutenant Commander, at the very least…"

"Something wrong, Captain?" Noonan asked softly.  
"This is just too perfect," Stafford sighed, "Look at them!"  
Fifebee looked around the room.  
"They are behaving," she said, "For once."  
"Exactly!" Stafford hissed, eyed Patsy Horton as she smiled and greeted two more officers entering the room, "The one time I need them to misbehave and create a fuss, they're sitting here quiet as mice! It's just not fair!"  
"I will admit to being surprised," Noonan nodded, pausing to sip his 'wine', "it's really unlike them. Still, you have to admit that given the amount of work Ms. Horton has put into creating a pleasing dining environment for us and fact that dinner has been quite pleasant so far, perhaps you really should allow her this moment of success?"  
"But it's Guinanco!" Stafford insisted, "They're evil!"  
"Are they?" Noonan raised an eyebrow.  
Stafford looked around the lounge. The Hazardous Team was digging into some very delicious looking pizza. Wowryk, Jeffery, T'Parief and Yanick were talking quietly, as were Lieutenant Ovens and his girlfriend.  
Stafford bit his lip.  
"Steven will continue to run Unbalanced Equations, providing the crew with a place to unwind. Is it really so bad to have someplace elegant to dine?" Noonan asked.  
"Not to mention," Jall cut in, "that the 'service' button in your dining room summons Guinanco staff now instead of a Starfleet steward…"  
Stafford eyes perked up.  
"So I can make these Guinanco people wait on me hand and foot?"  
"Yup,"  
"Hmmm…"  
"Besides," Jall shrugged, "I'm sure it won't be long until the next food fight sends these corporate slimeballs packing,"  
"Your meals, gentleman," Patsy Horton had returned to the table along with their waiter, who set the steaming plates in front of the organic members of the dining party.  
"Thanks," Stafford said grudgingly.  
"Captain," Horton smiled, "I do hope that we can put our past unpleasantness behind us and work together here,"  
"Yeah," Stafford sighed, reaching for his fork, "I guess that would work,"

The next morning…

"Well," Samantha smiled as Steven walked into the joined section of the suite, "you were sure out late. Did you and Lisa have a fun time?"  
Steven stared blankly at her.  
"You said something to her, didn't you?" he demanded.  
"To whom?" Mary asked calmly.  
"Lisa!" Steven relayed the tale of Lisa's sudden decision to include Kraig in any nocturnal activities.  
All three women stared at him expectantly.  
"And?" Samantha demanded, "Was it good?"  
"Oh please!" Steven snarled, "You think I'd do that? Don't be ridiculous. I was out all night wandering through the bars, trying to find one, just one normal woman!"  
"I would have gone for it," Samantha muttered, turning back to a magazine padd.  
"Maybe you would have," Steven shrugged, "But I'm sorry, I just can't go for that kind of thing,"  
"Well, we didn't say anything to her," Mary said, "Honestly. Maybe she just figured things out herself?"  
"Yeah," Steven sighed, "I guess so. But you know what? I've learned my lesson. For the rest of the trip, I promise that any time I talk to a woman, it will be to help her relax and have fun, not to get into her pants.  
"Good boy," Mary smiled, "He can be taught!"

"So," Bhen and Khres were seating at a back table with Kraig as the later downed a very strong Mary's Blood wine, "Did it work?"  
"No," Kraig sighed, "Lisa was as seductive as I've ever seen her, but he just would not crack,"  
"Cheer up," Bhen said gruffly, "perhaps the next woman chaser who passes though will be more receptive,"  
"One can only hope," Kraig sighed, draining his glass.

Several days later…

Noonan watched from the control booth as the runabout Niagara landed in Shuttlebay 2. Riding the lift to the main deck, he reached the runabout hatch just as Steven and his staff was disembarking.  
"I hope your vacation was enjoyable," he said in greeting.  
"Great," Mary said.  
"Relaxing," Becky smiled.  
"Fun," Samantha purred.  
Steven was quiet for a moment.  
"It took a few days," he admitted, "But I had a good time,"  
"A very good time," Samantha added.  
"As soon as he lost the 'let's bang' attitude, the women were all over him!" Beckly smirked.  
"I'm pleased to hear you had a pleasant time," Noonan said sincerely, "However, I feel I should fill you in on some recent events…"

Ensign Pysternzyks was just getting ready to start maintenance on the Hudson when a series of shouts rang through the shuttlebay.  
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE'VE GOT COMPETITION?"

End.

Next on Silverado: It's a holodeck double feature! Holodeck adventure A leaves the crew lost and confused, while Holodeck adventure B puts the Hazardous Team in the shoes of Earth's greatest super-genius!


	13. A New Thrall

Star Traks: Silverado

2.13 "A New Thrall!"

Author's Note: If you haven't watch the Star Wars trilogies or the Road Runner Show, then many parts of this story may not make sense…

Captain's Log, Stardate 57990.3

"With the successful completing of our mapping mission, we've set a course for the Klingon/Federation border. It would seem that Starfleet feels that after the intense monotony and boredom of a mapping mission, we need the intense monotony and boredom of a patrol assignment to help set us straight. On the bright side, we're close in to the core of Federation space rather than running around the outskirts. I choose to take this as a sign that Starfleet is no longer so embarrassed by us that they feel the need to keep us at arms length."

"Sylvia, pause recording," Stafford ordered, then leaned forward in his command chair to address his Ops officer, "Jall, if you don't stop giggling I'm going to order you gagged!"  
"And I would be pleased to follow that order," T'Parief added. The large hybrid officer was standing at the tactical station behind Stafford's chair, while Jall manned one of the twin consoles towards the front of the bridge. Ensign Yanick, manning the other console, also started giggling.  
"Aw, c'mon guys!" Stafford whined, exasperated, "How am I supposed to finish my log if everybody is snickering in the background!"  
"Actually, Chris," Sylvia chimed in, "the log recorder only records your voice. All the ambient noises are screened out, including giggling, moaning, mechanical sounds and the grinding of T'Parief's teeth."  
At this the stifled giggles from the bridge crew broke into loud laughter.  
"I think," Sylvia added, "that you people have way too much free time on your hands right now. Why don't you do something constructive, like learning how to play a musical instrument? Or maybe you could start correcting the interior design problems on the even numbered decks!"  
"I though it was the odd numbered ones that were coloured wrong," Yanick mused.  
"No," Jall said, "The warm creamy colours are SO last decade. The cool blues and greys are designed to convey a professional atmosphere, without making the place feel like a cruise ship."  
Ignoring the boring conversation, and choosing not to wonder just why his Ops officer knew so much about interior design, Stafford resumed his log.

"To help keep everybody entertained, Jeffery has some special holodeck program he wants to show us. Apparently it's supposed to be something really neat. Also on the subject of holodecks, Commander T'Parief has reserved a large block of holodeck time for security training. I kinda preferred our planetary war game thing last year, but using the holodecks IS Starfleet's standard procedure."

As Stafford finished his recording, the turbolift doors hissed open as the ship's chimes sounded the shift change. Lieutenant Stern, Ensign Pye, Ensign Day and Lieutenant Quintane piled out of the turbolift to relieve the senior staff. Commander Noonan, who made a habit of working late, was making his rounds of the various departments contained in the very large starship.  
"So is anybody else going to Jeffery's holo-extravaganza?" Yanick asked, "I wanna go…but not by myself."  
"I would be pleased to escort you, my lady," T'Parief said formally.  
"Oh brother," Stafford sighed as Yanick blushed and gave T'Parief a peck on the cheek.  
"Don't they make a cute couple?" Jall asked.  
"Oh shut up," Stafford muttered.  
"Feeling a little lonely…as usual?" Jall teased.  
"Not that it's any of your business!" Stafford snapped, "Why don't you worry about your own love life and leave mine alone? I haven't exactly seen YOU dating a lot of women lately either."  
"I think my reason for that is a little different," Jall smirked.  
"Yeah, I bet," Stafford grunted, "Let me guess, you find some nice young girl, woo her, take her to fancy dinners at pretty places, talk her into having sex with you then NEVER BOTHER TO CALL AGAIN?!"  
"Not quite," Jall chuckled, "but is sure sounds like you've been down that road a few times!"  
"Even women can be players," Stafford snapped as the turbolift eased to a halt.  
"Right, and you didn't play the only 'one-night-stand' game with Prefect Telfidi then, hmmm?" Yanick teased, referring to a Senousian leader Stafford had had a tryst with.  
"We both knew what it was!" Stafford shot back as they neared Holodeck 1.  
"The Senousians are not a monogamous race," T'Parief pointed out, coming to his captain's defense.  
"Oh don't worry," Yanick smiled, grabbing hold of T'Parief's hand, "You'll find somebody.  
Stafford only rolled his eyes.

"Remind me again why I'm doing this?" Wowryk asked as she finished dressing little Luke (AKA Lord Stalart), "I'm pretty sure there's something about this whole thing that's sinful. Of course, I'd know for sure if Jeffery would tell me what was going on!"  
"You're doing it because Simon wanted to include you in his little pet project," Nurse Kerry said, using a dermal regenerator to reattach Ensign Marsden's thumb after a disastrous attempt at cooking, "and because you guys decided that if Luke was to have a happy family life, the three of you need to do more together as a family."  
"I meant attending Mass when I brought that up," Wowryk grumbled, "But Yvonnokoff insists that I stop using sin as an excuse to avoid experiencing life."  
"About time," Veeneman muttered as she put the finishing touches on Crewman Wonk's medical report.  
"What was that?"  
"A hint of lime," Veeneman lied, "I was thinking about dinner."  
/One day,/ Lord Stalart of Arcania (AKA Luke) declared, /my race will conquer the galaxy and rule you all!/  
"Give Aunt Leslie a hug before you go!" Kerry picked up Stalart, hugged him and gave him a kiss. As she handed him back to Wowryk, she started.  
"What is it?" Wowryk asked.  
"I think he just groped me!"  
"Don't be ridiculous," Wowryk scoffed, "He's not old enough yet to be a horny pervert!"  
/Yes, you just keep thinking that…MWA-HA-HA!/

Shortly before Jeffery's scheduled show time, everybody converged on the entrance to Holodeck 1.  
"Heya kiddo!" Stafford bent down to address Luke with an unconvincing smile, "How's the little guy been?"  
"He's been good lately," Wowryk said with a small grin, "No peeing on the computers or screaming fits for weeks. Although I did catch him playing in the jefferies tubes the other day."  
/I was looking for the self-destruct, to put an end to this pathetic existence you all call your lives!/  
"So what does old Jeffers want?" Jall asked, "Is he gonna do a bagpipe demonstration?"  
"Dear God, I hope not," Stafford groaned, "Last time he did that I had migraines for a month!"  
"Maybe we're having a slumber party!" Ensign Yanick squealed happily.  
Both Wowryk and Stafford answered together:  
"If that's it then I'm leaving!"  
There was a moment of silence.  
"Well, that was spooky," Trish finally said.  
"Eerie even," Stafford agreed.  
"You're all idiots," Jall muttered.  
"We hate you too," Wowryk replied with a dark smile.  
"Allo, gents!" Jeffery said happily as he walked down the corridor, a broad smile on his face.  
"Ok, we're all here," Stafford said, hands on hips, "So what's this big surprise you have for us?"  
"Well," Jeffery almost bounced with excitement, "Ye know how before holodecks were invented, people used to sit down and watch stuff on television, right?"  
"Of course we do," Jall was peeved, "We do it weekly on Cartoon Night!"  
"Loved 'Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy' the other night," Stafford spoke up.  
"It wasn't a cartoon," T'Parief pointed out.  
"We're broadening our horizons," Stafford shot back.  
"ANYWAY!" Jeffery said, regaining everybody's attention, "Ye probably also know then that once holodecks got going, people started making holo-novels…kinda like movies, only ye play the main character."  
"Bored now," Jall said flatly.  
"Let him finish!" Wowryk hissed.  
"Ah've combined the two!" Jeffery said proudly, "Yer about to be the first people to enjoy an old 20th century movie…in holographic Jeffery-vision! Ah've taken the film and converted it to full holographic 3-D-"  
"Been done before," Jall pointed out.  
"Aye, but always with ye as the main character. With this 3-D conversion, ye'll be sitting in the middle of all the action, not watching it on one wall. This time, it's more like a movie theatre experience."  
"But we get a movie theatre experience," Stafford said, "At Cartoon Night. And besides, I'm pretty sure somebody's done this before-"  
"Just get in the Holodeck!" Jeffery snapped.

Jeffery pushed the group through the wide doors to Holodeck 1. Inside was nothing but an opera-house type box with a dozen seats in two rows. A small food replicator sat to one side of the box. For refreshments during the movie, Stafford assumed. Hopefully the lavatory facilities would be somewhat more private. The rest of the holodeck was just a bare grid.  
"Sylvia, initiate program!" Jeffery called out. The lights in the holodeck went out. Wowryk became aware of tiny pinpoints of lights…stars, she realized. She nearly jumped out of her seat when trumpets sounded and a huge logo hovered in the air above them. Text started scrolling from somewhere under the seating box and moving out into the distance.  
"Star Wars?" T'Parief said thoughtfully, "Hmmm. I am intrigued."  
"The Phantom Menace?" Jall asked, "What the hell is this?"  
"This," Jeffery explained, "Is one of the most incredible film series ever created! Ah had to dig through the archives at Memory Alpha for weeks to find it. Ah can't understand why such a spectacular piece of work would be buried so deep."  
"Galactic Republic?" Stafford said to himself, reading the lines. "As in a whole galaxy?"  
/I must put myself out of my misery," Lord Stalart thought to himself. With Wowryk concentrating on reading the introduction to the movie, Stalart slipped over the edge of the observations box, falling through space…  
…and landing right back on his chair, courtesy of Sylvia and the holodeck safety protocols.  
"Careful there sweetie," Sylvia said, voice coated with sugary motherly sweetness, "Wouldn't want you to get hurt!"  
/Damn you mechanical witch!/

As the movie started, Stafford found himself impressed with Jeffery's work on the movie, if not the movie itself. Everything was in true holographic 3D, with the theatre box subtly moving from place to place to give the best view of the action.  
Two hours later, everybody was stretching backs and working to bring sleeping legs back to life.  
"Well, those weren't the WORST 2 hours of my life," Jall said, "But only because I once spent Spring Break on Pluto!"  
"I'm with him," Stafford said to Jeffery, "Sorry Simon, but that movie just didn't make any sense. What's with the damned kid? And who the hell was the creepy old guy? Too many unanswered questions, bud."  
"Indeed," T'Parief added, "That 'war', if you can call it that, was nothing more than a minor land skirmish! I expected space battles! Heroic campaigns! Fleets of-"  
"Well, y'know," Simon shot back, "They did call it 'Episode 1' for a reason! This is just the first part!"  
"There's more?" T'Parief asked, almost fearfully.  
"Aye, 5 more episodes. They get a lot-"  
"BYE!" Everybody scrambled down the corridors like Jawas running from a Tusken Raider.  
"-better," Jeffery finished.

The next evening, after a truly boring bridge shift, Stafford sat sipping apple cider in Unbalanced Equations. The high point of his day had been stopping a freighter crossing the Klingon border for a routine customs check. The freighter, as it turned out, was running a shipment from Delta IV to some of the more lonely Klingon outposts, and was carrying a large amount of material of such explicit nature that Stafford had ordered all tricorders shut down, for fear that Sylvia might be monitoring via the tricorders uplink to the main computer.  
"So whatcha wanna do?" Yanick asked, seated as she was across from the Captain.  
"I dunno, what do you wanna do?" Stafford asked.  
"I dunno. You wanted to hang out this evening!" Yanick shot back.  
"Yeah, well, it's been a while since we did anything together," Stafford said, slightly defensive, "What, with your boyfriend and all."  
"Don't be jelous," Yanick advised, "Y'know, I bet the minute you stop keeping your eye open for the perfect girl, one will just drop in out of nowhere."  
"Oh yeah," Stafford said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "And Jall and T'Parief will don tutus and dance around the bridge!"  
"Jall might," Yanick muttered to herself.  
"Let's take a walk," Stafford grumbled.

"So, how was your day?" Noel asked. Jeffery had stopped by her quarters at the end of his shift. She replicated a nice cup of tea for him (which he was stealthily pouring into the potted dieffenbachia next to her couch) and was working hard to follow Counselor Yvonnokoff's 'relationship advice'. Basically, be nice to your significant other and understand that his carnal masculine desires were normal and healthy.  
"T'was OK," Jeffery replied, "Ah'm starting to work on a self-contained processing unit to house Sylvia's gel-pack. Y'know, just in case."  
"How very thoughtful," Noel said with a smile. I have no idea what the hell you just said, she mentally added to herself, but it sounds thoughtful.  
"And how's my little guy?" Jeffery asked with a smile as 'Luke' padded softly into the main room, looking up at Jeffery with big green eyes as the engineer bent over to pick him up.  
/She's never going to put out, you know,/ Lord Stalart said, /An antimatter explosion couldn't force her legs apart!/  
"Has he started talking yet?" Jeffery asked Wowryk, oblivious of Lord Stalart's rant.  
"No," Wowryk sighed, "Although he threw a screaming fit this morning when I tried to cut his hair, but it was just baby-talk-"  
/I'll show you baby-talk, you wretched b-/  
"-it would sure help if we had some idea how old he is," Wowryk went on, "I mean, he looks to be around one or two, but he could be 6 months or 5 years. Depends on his species. We don't have an adult of his race to compare his bio-readings to, so I just can't tell."  
"So, what do you plan on doing tonight?" Jeffery asked, ready to change the topic.  
"Oh, I was just thinking of taking a stroll through the corridors. And yourself?"  
"Ah'm going to head down to the Holodeck, run through Episode 2. Wanna come?"  
You've got to be kidding, Wowryk though. Me, a medical doctor who spent half a dozen grueling years at Starfleet Medical, stoop to watching ridiculous science fiction trash?  
"I'd love to," she said with a smile. She frowned, "I mean, I wouldn't. Yes I would! No I wouldn't!"  
"You plan on making your mind up anytime soon?" Jeffery asked, a concerned look on his face as he watched Wowryk argue with herself.  
"Let's go," Wowryk snapped, grabbing him by the arm.

"What are you guys doing here?" Jall asked, putting his hands on his hips and regarding the other officers hovering around Holodeck 1.  
"As First Officer," Noonan said coldly, "I have the authority to go where I want and do what I wish!"  
"Calm down," Stafford admonished, a little surprised. He'd never seen Noonan push his authority on somebody else before. At least it was Jall on the receiving end.  
"We just went for a walk," Yanick piped up, giving Jall a hello hug, "and kinda ended up here…"  
"I was just getting ready to plug in Epsode Two: Attack of the Clones," Jeffery said, "Noel here was joining me. Y'know, spending quality time together and all that."  
"Well, great minds think alike and all that," Stafford shrugged, "Let's watch the.." Stafford trailed off as a group of crewmen came around the corner.  
"Uh, sorry to bother you, sirs," one of them said, unusually polite, "But we were wondering if we could join you."  
"Join us?" Stafford asked.  
"We kinda found Lt. Commander Jeffery's program last night," another admitted, "We wanted to see the next part, but all the holodecks are in use."  
"Um," Stafford looked over at Jeffery, who simply shrugged.  
"Sure, why not?" he said. May as well spend some personal time with other crewmembers for a change.  
"Great," the guy smiled, then reached behind the corner of the corridor to wave.  
No fewer than 50 crewmen and women proceeded to file around the corner, down the corridor and into the holodeck.  
"Oh, this just figures," Stafford grumbled, following them in, "I invite half a dozen, I get half a hundred. Bastards better not take all the good seats!"  
"Mr. Jeffery," T'Parief interrupted, stomping around the corridor, his antennae stubs grazing the ceiling, "I wish to speak with you regarding your holographic projects,"  
"We're just about to start part two," Jeffery made a welcoming gesture towards the holodeck doors, "Why don't ye join us?"  
"I shall," T'Parief nodded, "But I wish to know: can you reprocess any two dimensional film in such a fashion?"  
"Sure," Jeffery shrugged, tapping on the Holodeck panel as he pulled up Episode Two of Star Wars in Jeffery-Vision, "Sylvia and I worked out a conversion program. Just tell me what ye want, and the computer will put it together."  
"How do you account for the huge amounts of extra data needed to generate a true holographic environment from a two dimensional film?" Jall asked.  
"Sylvia and I came up with subroutines that fill in the extra spaces," Jeffery said, "Holoprogrammers usually input all the extra environmental info manually, but I have other stuff to do-"  
"So he forks the extra workload off on me!" Sylvia interjected.  
"What did ye want us to process?" Jall continued, ignoring Sylvia.  
"We shall discuss it after the movie," T'Parief said, settling into one of the seats in the significantly larger theater box that had appeared in the holodeck, "I hope this chapter has more bloodshed than the previous one…"

Two hours later…

"Wow…" T'Parief murmured as he watched platoons of clone soldiers marching off to war.  
"What happens next?" Stafford demanded, "I mean, c'mon! You can't end the movie right when the good stuff is finally starting!"  
"Boys, please," Wowryk rolled her eyes, "Clearly you missed out on the touching love story-"  
"Touching?" Jall snapped, "What a load! I haven't seen writing that cheesy since that Bolian play…what was it…'Passions of the Cheddar'?  
"Let's just come back tomorrow night," Yanick suggested.  
"I want to see more. NOW!" T'Parief rumbled.  
"I don't think so," Stafford stood and stretched the kinks out of his frame, "It's almost 23:00, and we've all got duty shifts tomorrow morning."  
"Ah'll book the holodeck for tomorrow night," Jeffery put in.  
"Very well," Noonan nodded as he took his leave.  
"So, big guy," Jeffery slapped a hand against T'Parief's back, "What's this project ye wanted me to do?"

Episode 3:

"WAAAHHHH!" Yanick, Fifebee and Wowryk cried, tears streaming down their faces.  
"Cool!" Stafford and Jeffery declared. T'Parief just rubbed his hands together in glee.  
The 8 crewmates had just witnessed Anakin Skywalker's painful transition to Darth Vader and the death of his wife, Padme. The men were on the edge of their seats, watching the spoiled and annoying Anakin as he was horribly mutilated and encased in a gleaming metal suit. The women were sobbing as poor Padme expired after giving birth to her twins.

Episode 4:

"Trish," T'Parief said softly.  
"Yes, hun?" Yanick asked.  
"If you're even unsure of what to buy me for my birthday, a Death Star would be REALLY nice!"  
"That Vader character," Noonan mused, "He's just so deliciously evil. The power…the authority." Noonan continued muttering to himself as he wandered out of the holodeck.  
"At least things are finally starting to look up," Stafford muttered, "This whole series was just getting way too depressing.  
"Pity the battle station was destroyed," T'Parief mused.

Episode 5:

"WAAAHHHH!" Yanick, Fifebee and Wowryk cried, tears streaming down their faces.  
"Oh for crying out loud," Jall snapped, "You can't take women to ANY kind of movie that involves love or couples being separated without the waterworks kicking in!"  
"But Han and Leia," Wowryk sobbed, "They were such a cute couple…and they haven't even given in to their primal urges!"  
"Han's still alive!" Jeffery snapped.  
"But he's frozen in carbonite!" Yanick wailed.  
"This is all your fault," Stafford muttered to Jeffery.

The next morning:

Stafford tapped his foot as he waited for the turbolift to deliver him to the bridge. He couldn't really explain why, but it seemed like the past week he'd lost any patience he possessed. Maybe it was from waiting to finally see the end of that damned series Jeffery was subjecting them to. He had to admit that he really was enjoying it…'The Empire Strikes Back' was especially good. If only he was as good with women as that Han Solo character…charming a princess, of all people! One the other hand he DID have sex with a Prefect, which was almost as good.  
Stafford was jerked out of his reverie as the turbolift doors hissed open. As soon as he stepped onto the bridge, loud music started playing.  
DUM, DUM, DUM, DUM DE DUM, DUM DE DUM!  
Stafford recognized the Imperial March from last night's movie in a second. Playing along (and fighting hard not to burst out laughing) he brought himself to attention then marched to his command chair, carefully keeping time with the music. He settled into his chair just as the tune climaxed and ended.  
At which point he and everybody on the bridge (except for Noonan) lost the battle and broke into giggles.  
"Who's bright idea what that?" Stafford asked, tears streaming down his face.  
"J…J…J…" Yanick tried to get a word out.  
"Me!" Jall declared laughing loudly.  
After a few moments, things calmed down.  
"Well," Stafford finally said, "Your timing was great."  
"Hmph," Noonan grumbled.  
"Problem, Commander?" Stafford asked.  
"You are mocking our proud anthem," Noonan declared.  
"Our what?"  
Noonan frowned, blinked, then shook his head.  
"I dunno where THAT came from," he said finally.  
T'Parief only grunted.  
"Enough," Stafford snapped, "Ensign Yanick, come right to course 216 mark 4, Warp 4. Lieutenant Fifebee, keep an eye open for any Rebel vessels. I'll be in my ready room."  
Yanick and Fifebee blinked.  
"What the hell was that?" Yanick asked.  
"He was being…very assertive," Fifebee replied, "For him,"  
"You will not question the Captain," Noonan said coldly, standing from his command chair, "Mr. T'Parief, you will begin your training exercises. Call Lieutenant Commander Jeffery to the bridge to take the conn. I wish to retire to my chambers.  
"Yes, sir," T'Parief nodded as Noonan left the bridge.  
"Wasn't that slightly…odd?" Yanick asked after several moments of silence.  
"Authority types," Jall shrugged, "Always pushing us lowly peons around,"

Ensign Rengs Aris jogged lightly down the corridor towards Holodeck 2, catching up with the rest of the Hazardous team.  
Lieutenant Stern, Ensign Dar'ugal, Ensign Marsden and Crewman Kreklor had already fallen-in in single file formation along the corridor wall next to the holodeck doors. Ensign Rengs fell in next to Kreklor, wrinkling his nose as he caught a whiff of Klingon body odor. Ensign Simmons arrived moments later, panting from his run.  
"You were almost late, again," Rengs murmured out of the corner of his mouth, "if Big Green catches you again…"  
"I know," Simmons muttered, "I was just-"  
"Just what, Ensign?" T'Parief asked quietly from behind Simmons.  
"Ohhh…." Simmons groaned, "How long were you behind me?"  
"Since you exited the turbolift," T'Parief stated, "Fortunately, you made it with 3 seconds to spare."  
Moving down the line, T'Parief spoke up.  
"I have crafted for you a training scenario that will test your daring, your creativity and your imagination. You will need to use every strategy in your pathetic brains to defeat the program and win the day. If you win, glory and honor. If you loose, insults and ridicule."  
"Like that's anything new," Marsden whispered to Kreklor.  
"Your mission parameters are as follows:" T'Parief continued, "You have no time limit. You have access to any equipment you desire including but not limited to munitions, energy weapons, explosives, traps, missiles, bombs, energy fields and so forth. The terrain will be Class M desert, minimal vegetation and water."  
"Sounds pretty easy," Simmons muttered, "Let's just dial up a planet-cracker and blow the whole thing!"  
"This may sound easy," T'Parief went on, oblivious to the smart-ass comments, "but I assure you, it will be quite a challenge."  
"So what's our mission objective?" Lieutenant Stern asked.  
T'Parief smiled, showing his fangs as the holodeck doors opened, revealing Arizona desert.  
"You must capture a Road Runner!"

The Hazardous Team looked at each other, then around at the cartoon landscape surrounding them. A two-lane highway stretched off into the distance, stovepipe cacti dotted the landscape.  
"You remember that thing about Commander T'Parief watching too many cartoons?" Marsden asked.  
"How could I forget?" Simmons grumbled, poking at a cartoon cactus.  
"I think this removes all doubt."  
BEEP BEEP!  
"What the hell-"  
Something flashed by, knocking the entire Hazardous Team to the ground. A blue and purple bird, nearly as tall as a person stopped in the middle of the road and regarded them all with eyes that seemed to spark of inner intelligence.  
"BEEP BEEP!"  
The Road Runner took off down the road, leaving the Hazardous Team coughing up dust.  
"He mocks us!" Kreklor snarled, "How dare he! I will rip his heart from his-"  
"Gizzard," Simmons interrupted.  
"Bless you," Stern said.  
"No," Simmons shook his head, "When you're dealing with birds, you usually threaten to rip out their gizzards, not their hearts."  
"Oh," Kreklor looked thoughtful, "And what is a gizzard?"  
"Stomach, I think," Simmons shrugged.  
"Thank you," Kreklor nodded politely, "I wish to be correct when threatening living creatures,"  
"I think you're safe to go with gizzard," Marsden chuckled.  
"I shall tear his gizzard from his steaming corpse!" Kreklor snarled, "I will rend his head from his shoulders! I will-"  
"Now that the peanut gallery has been dealt with," Stern crossed his arms as Kreklor continued to rant, "Any thoughts on how we're supposed to deal with a bird that runs faster than a speeding bullet?"  
"Shoot a bullet at him from the front," Marsden suggested, "He can't outrun it if he's heading right for it."  
"Perfect," Stern nodded, "Now we just need to find him. Mardsen, Simmons, Rengs, you're all on scouting duty. Dar'ugal and I will find a weapon."  
"What about the Raving Klingon over there?" Simmons gestured to Kreklor, who was shouting something about flinging pancreases across the desert.  
"I think he's doing fine where he is," Stern decided.

"Were you followed?" Yanick asked, looking carefully around the empty cargo bay.  
"No," Jall whispered back, "why did you want to see me?"  
"Things are deteriorating rapidly," Yanick said sadly, "the Federation principals I've served for so long are falling apart! People like Noonan and Stafford, they'd rather turn things into a dictatorship, run the show all by themselves!"  
"That kind of talk is treason!" Jall hissed, "you don't want to get on Noonan's bad side!"  
"We need to get somebody they trust on our side," Yanick said, "Somebody who can inform us of their plans, their schemes.  
"Fifebee," Jall whispered back.  
"Are you insane?" Yanick pulled back, "She's one of the most loyal officer they have!"  
"How long will that last?" Jall asked, "You know how the Empire despises non-humans! She has to come around to our way of thinking!"  
"We'll keep it as an option," Yanick decided, "But only if we can be sure she's ready to defect."

"Time?" Stern asked.  
"He should be coming over that hill in 60 seconds," Marsden reported.  
Stern, as the Hazardous team's sharpshooter, was lying on a bluff overlooking the highway, an old projectile sniper rifle setup in front of him. He sighted carefully, targeting the exactly section of highway where he expected the Road Runner to make his appearance.  
"10, 9, 8," Marsden counted down, "3, 2, 1…"  
` Stern pulled the trigger.  
The shot flew faster than the speed of sound, on a direct course to intersect with the Road Runner's rapidly beating heart.  
Road Runners stopped.  
The bullet hit the pavement and ricocheted off to the right. It bounced off a rock face, zipped back over Marsden's head, hit another rockface-  
And nailed Stern square on the left buttock.  
"AHHH!" Stern screamed, "Get it out! Get it out!"  
Guided by their first aid training, Simmons and Rengs quickly turned Stern onto his stomach.  
There was no blood, not even a hole in Stern's pants.  
"Holodeck safeties are on," Rengs reported, "No damage."  
"Well it still f**king hurt!" Stern screamed.  
"I think we just learned something," Marsden said thoughtfully.  
"Bullets hurt!" Stern snapped.  
Dar'ugal laughed silently.  
"Well, yes," Marsden agreed, "But I think Commander T'Parief has changed the environmental constants of the holodeck. The fact that the bullet would ricochet so precisely is really not possible."  
"Cartoon laws of physics?" Simmons made a face, "Give me a break!"  
"One way to test it," Stern grunted, pulling himself to his feet and gingerly rubbing his bruised butt. He walked behind a boulder, finding a catalogue with the word ACME stamped on the front. He'd found the catalogue shortly after arriving in the holodeck and had used it to obtain his sniper rifle. Quickly flipping through, he found a promising looking sledgehammer and tapped the picture with his finger. The desired object appeared as his feet.  
"What's that for?" Marsden asked.  
Stern said nothing, simple eased the hammer back, swung, and hit Marsden square on the top of the head. Mardsen yelped in surprise as he was driven three feet into the ground.  
"How did that feel?" Stern asked.  
"It hurt," Marsden snapped, working to free his lower half from where it was buried in the dirt, "But not badly."  
"Great," Simmons nodded, "So we can't die, and we can't be badly injured,"  
"Cartoon physics all right," Stern agreed.  
"Hey, what if you'd been wrong?" Marsden asked as the team started walking down the road, "Hey…guys! What if that hammer had killed me? GUYS?"

"You know, we must have sat through about 6 hours of these shows in the lounge," Simmons said, leaning against the side of a solid rock wall.  
"Yes, we have," Stern replied, concentrating on the force field generator he was tinkering with.  
"The coyote never caught the bird," Simmons went on.  
"I still have no idea what any of this has to do with starship security," Ensign Rengs sighed, his Bajoran earring jingling softly in the breeze.  
"We have over 300 years worth of technology that the coyote never had access to," Stern said, ignoring Rengs and making a few final adjustments, "We're also smarter than him."  
"Hazardous Team: Omnipotent Geniuses!" Marsden cackled, rubbing his hands together. Stern, Simmons and Rengs exchanged glances.  
"Don't blame me," Simmons said, "You were the one that hit him over the head!"  
"Right, well," Stern stepped back, "It's ready. As soon as the Road Runner gets within range of the motion sensors, the containment field will activate.  
"I'm pretty sure Wile E. Coyote did the same thing with a pop up iron wall in one episode," Marsden said.  
"Yes, well, force fields are harder to spot than a solid iron wall."  
"Kreklor to Stern," chirped Stern's communicator badge.  
"Stern here,"  
"He just passed me. He will be at your location in about 20 seconds."  
"Everybody hide!" Stern snapped. Everybody bolted for a convenient nearby boulder, slipping behind just as the Road Runner came speeding around a corner, right past the carefully laid out force field grid.  
Nothing happened. The Road Runner sped right past the field generator, which sat quiet as a little old lady in church.  
"Well," Simmons remarked, walking up to the generator, "I sure wasn't expecting THAT to happen! It's only what happens to EVERY trap that the coyote-"  
Simmons was cut off as a large rock, which had been loosened by the vibrations of the Road Runner's passing, tumbled from the rock face and landed squarely on his head.  
"I was expecting the field generator to explode," Marsden chuckled to Dar'ugal.  
"You know," Rengs said, heavily sardonic, "Bajoran cartoons are far less violent and actually endeavor to teach children values and morales!"  
"I promise I'll get Steven to play some Teddy Ruxpin or something for little, um, what did you call the kid again?"  
"Gerenis," Rengs replied, "And I think I'll stick to Bajoran entertainment.  
"If you housewives are finished with your little tea party," Stern said, "Some of us would like to actually finish the scenario and leave the holodeck at some point!"  
"Right."

One hour, two jackhammers, 4 shovels, a sheet of duranium disguised as concrete and a high power anti-grav later, the Hazardous team stood back to admire their handiwork.  
"Traps are dishonorable," Kreklor stated.  
"Yes, thank you for the stereotypical Klingon remark," Stern snapped, trying to rub dust out of his eyes, "Tell you what, if this doesn't work we'll check the ACME catalogue for a bat'leth."  
"Earth-made bat'leths? " Kreklor was scornful, "Please, I may as well try whacking him with a wet pasta noodle."  
"I'm not sure if we're supposed to be offended here or not," Rengs said to the red, furry non-human security officer next to him. Dar'ugal shrugged. The large Barudan officer had been a big help with the planning, but he was suffering from heat exhaustion under his heavy fur coat. He also never spoke, which made him somewhat ill suited for witty banter.  
"Should we maybe test this thing out?" Marsden wondered.  
"Yup," Stern said, grabbing an always-handy rock from the side of the road. He gave it a gentle toss and it rolled right onto the camouflaged plate.  
Propelled by the powerful anti-grav, the plate flew straight up in the air, slamming into a rock formation overhead. It slowly floated to the ground, the rock Stern had thrown broken into three pieces.  
"See? Works like a charm," Stern said, "far more effective than an anvil,"  
"I just feel like there's something we're missing," Simmons said.  
"Shh," Stern hissed, "The Road Runner's gonna be here any minute!"  
"Where are we gonna hide?" Simmons asked. Sure enough, the stretch of highway that ran under the overhead rock formation was strangely free of boulders.  
"I think that's what we missed!" Marsden cried.  
With a rush of wind, the Road Runner zipped past Stern and Marsden, coming to a stop right in front of Kreklor.  
"BEEP! BEEP!"  
"DIE, MOCKING DEVIL BIRD!" Kreklor screamed, darting at the purple bird. The Road Runner stuck his tongue out at the Klingon and took off with a burst of speed.  
"ARRRGGGHH!" Kreklor screamed.  
"LOOK OUT!" everybody warned. Too late. Kreklor stepped right on the hidden plate. The anti-grav fired, slamming the Klingon into the rock overhead.  
"Oh," Marsden winced sympathetically, "I bet that really had to hurt."  
There was an ominous creaking from overhead. Bits of gravel started pelting the team members.  
"I think I just remembered what we forgot," Simmons said in a soft voice.  
"RUN!" Stern shouted.  
They made it all of two steps before the rock ceiling collapsed, burying them beneath tons of holographic rubble.

"Mr. T'Parief," Stafford said crisply, "What word is there from the holodeck? I understand the Alpha Security Squad is undergoing maneuvers."  
"The Hazardous Team? Yes, sir," T'Parief replied.  
"Mr. T'Parief," Stafford said coolly, "While it might be acceptable for the troops to use such nicknames, I won't stand for it on the bridge of an Imp…um, Federation starship."  
"Yes, sir. It won't happen again, sir."  
"See that it doesn't."  
Straightening his uniform, Stafford stepped softly around the bridge.  
"The bridge of a starship is a place for professional, loyal officers," he said more loudly, walking over to the twin conn and ops consoles at the front of the bridge, where Yanick and Jall sat, "Don't you agree, Ensign?"  
"Oh, yes sir. Yes indeedily do."  
"Excellent. I would hate to have to punish any of my valued officers for behavior that was…unseemly."

Noonan stepped into Main Engineering, noting with satisfaction that the short Nicondii engineers were attending to their tasks with quiet efficiency. Frit Naketh tapped diligently at the main warp drive control console, facing the pulsating warp core behind a curved wall of protective transparent aluminum. Her brother Frat was elbow deep in one of the consoles, repairing a faulty control circuit. Frek, one of the other Naketh siblings, monitored ship's status from the Master Systems display while Finn helped Jeffery with the theta-metrix control unit on the second level. Riding the small elevator to the upper deck, he gently reached out with his mind and sent into Finn the certain knowledge that he should leave.  
"Commander Noonan," Jeffery said with a slight bow, his accent barely noticeable "How my I serve you, sir?"  
"I require a device to be built for my use," Noonan said softly, "the specifications are here," he handed over a padd, "Can you do it?"  
"Aye sir," Jeffery replied, "I'll modify one of the contained energy torches from Maintenance. I should be able to get what you need,"  
"Excellent," Noonan said, "Your services will be remembered.

Dr. Wowryk sat in her office, having just completed her evening prayers. Luke was playing quietly in the playpen she had setup for him in the corner of her office. He looked at her for a moment before returning to the picture padd she had given him to play with. She wasn't sure why, but something in his gaze gave her chills. She turned on her computer terminal, expecting to see the medical report she had started earlier.  
Instead she saw a cloaked figure on her display.  
"Noel Wowryk," it said. The voice was clearly female, and vaguely familiar, but it had a guttural croak that gave it a sinister quality.  
"You were once known as Queen Wowryk," it said "Leader of a great army. You slaughtered your crewmates, though they came back to defeat you," It wasn't a question.  
"I was under the influence of alien technology," Wowryk said.  
"But that powerful spirit lies within you," the figure croaked, "You will help me secure my power here. In return, I will raise you high in my councils. I will give you means to punish the sinners and heretics, as you so strongly desire to!"  
Wowryk looked thoughtfully at the screen.  
"Let me think about it," she said.  
The cloaked figure nodded.  
"Very well. But time is short. Think quickly,"  
Her monitor switched off.

"That hurt," Rengs said simply, brushing dust out of his hair. He bent down to help pull Kreklor out of the pile of rubble. The holographic rocks moved away easily, and nobody had been injured aside from a few bumps and bruises.  
"A warrior does not complain about pain…OW!" Kreklor shouted.  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Simmons said, "I must have accidentally pinched your leg, totally by accident."  
"P'tack," Kreklor mumbled.  
"Any other bright ideas?" Marsden asked Stern.  
"I think it's Simmons' turn to come up with a plan," Stern said.  
"It is," Simmons said, "And it's time for you amateurs to take a lesson from the master,"  
"Uh-huh," Stern said skeptically, "What's your bright idea?"  
"We need to stick with simplicity," Simmons said, "All these fancy gadgets and doo-dads…more failure points," Simmons started flipping through the ACME catalogue Stern had found, "Let's see…here!" Simmons help up the catalogue, pointing at his choice.  
"ACME quantum torpedo," Rengs read, "Patrick, you've got to be kidding. Stern nearly got himself killed with a primitive projective weapon. I dunno about you, but I have a wife and kid!"  
"I thought we were supposed to catch the Road Runner, "Marsden added, scratching his head, "not vaporize him!"  
Dar'ugal tapped Stern on the shoulder, then pantomimed a boom, then a large circle.  
"He has a point," grumbled Kreklor, "the beast will never escape the blast radius."  
"I dunno about this," Rengs said, holding up his hands, "I think I'll just go stand over there behind that hill while you play with explosives!"  
"No," Stern said sharply, "We do this as a team. We make or break as a team,"  
"Or get blasted to pieces as a team?" Simmons asked, putting through his ACME order.  
"Something like that," Stern muttered as a large crate landed in the middle of the road.

"Look, there is no possible way this can backfire on us," Simmons said after they had pulled the Styrofoam and plastic sheeting away from the gleaming black torpedo casing, "The bullet ricochet could have been weird coincidence. The rock on the head could have been knocked loose by a tremor. And the anti-grav, well that was just a bad idea from the start,"  
"Don't get too cocky," Stern warned, "There's no guarantee your brilliant plan is going to work out any better,"  
"Don't be stupid," Simmons chuckled as he attached a timing mechanism to the detonator circuit, "I checked the specs that came with it. Triple redundancy detonator safety, internal inertial dampeners for anti-shock protection and the quantum singularity doesn't even prime until you-"  
KA-BOOOOOOOOOOM!  
Simmons was blasted straight back into Kreklor, the two of them slamming into the ground several meters away. Rengs, Marsden, Stern and Dar'ugal went spinning off in the opposite direction, Marsden landing hard on a stovepipe cactus that just happened to get in the way.  
Gasping and coughing, the team members pulled themselves to their feet, brushing soot from their faces. Kreklor tossed back his thick black locks of hair, ignoring the clumps of dirt.  
Stern, Marsden, Kreklor, Rengs and Dar'ugal all looked angrily at Simmons, who only shrugged.

It was Rengs' turn.  
"It's time to try energy weapons," Rengs said, reading the ACME catalogue, "Just a phaser would do nicely. It's nearly impossible for a phaser to richochet. Or slam me into rock cliffs."  
"Or explode?" Simmons asked, his hair still blasted back from his previous experience.  
"Ohhh, right," Rengs flipped through a few more pages, "What about the extremely primitive? Slingshot? Catapult?"  
Everybody turned to stare darkly at him.  
"Have you even WATCHED the Road Runner show?" Kreklor snarled.  
"I think we can rule out slingshots and catapults," Stern said firmly.  
"Yeah," Simmons muttered.  
"Seconded," added Marsden.  
"How about an old phase pistol?" Simmons asked, thumbing through the catalogue.  
"No," Rengs said, "They were less powerful, but FAR less efficient. The power source in modern phasers is smaller and much safer,"  
"BEEP BEEP!"  
"Quickly!" Stern urged.  
"Fine!" Rengs selected a type-two hand phaser. A small box materialized at his feet. Over the horizon a cloud of dust was rapidly moving towards them. Rengs tore frantically at the wrapping, pulling off the brown shipping paper, then fighting to pull the tape off the cardboard box. He flung aside the bubble wrap and pulled out the phaser.  
The Road Runner zipped past, a whirlwind of dust and wind an debris, pulling at the hair and cloths of the Hazardous Team members and flashing past.  
"NOW!" Stern shouted.  
Rengs pulled the trigger.  
Nothing happened.  
He pressed it again.  
POP!  
And again.  
POP!  
Held it down.  
POP!  
He turned the phaser around in his hands.  
POP!  
Tapped at the beam width and intensity controls.  
POP!  
"WILL YOU GIVE IT A REST WITH THE FWARKING BUBBLE WRAP?!" Kreklor screamed.  
"Oh," Marsden blushed, "Sorry," he tossed the bubble wrap aside. A small packet fell out. Simmons frowned, then bent to retrieve it.  
"What is it?" Stern asked.  
Simmons shook his head.  
"The battery,"  
"You've got to be kidding," Stern groaned. Dar'ugal shook his shoulders is dismay.  
"Give me that!" Rengs growled, snatching the battery from Simmons and ripping off the plastic wrap. He flipped open the phaser's batter compartment and slammed the battery in.  
BOOOOOM!

"I give up," Simmons sighed, sitting on the side of the road.  
"That's the explosions talking," Kreklor muttered.  
"C'mon guys," Stern said, slapping his knees and rising to his feet, "C'mon, one more try, then we'll turn in for the night. Marsden? Darg? What do ya say?"  
"Do we have to?" Marsden whined.  
"He is right," Kreklor said, "One day, we will gather in your prissy bar and drink your girlish human drinks and sing songs to our great victory!"  
"How many pieces will we be in when we're doing that?"  
"The more, the merrier!" Kreklor said, pulling Simmons onto his feet.  
"Oh, fine. What next?"

A casual observer, wandering through the Arizona desert, would be very confused with what he saw. Or he'd be laughing hysterically.  
The Hazardous Team had relocated to a small cave, half a kilometer away from the highway. The better to prevent their prey from learning their plans. Stacked outside the cave were a number of empty packing crates:

1 ACME 4 Seat Golf Cart  
4 ACME Anti-Gravs  
1 ACME Impulse Engine  
2 ACME Steering Jets  
1 ACME Shephard's Crook  
1 ACME Inertial Dampener

Everybody stood back to admire their handiwork. The impulse engine, steering jets and anti-gravs had been mounted firmly to the chassis of the golf-cart, resulting it a lightweight but fast hover-vehicle. The inertial dampener would reduce the inertial effects of sudden starts, stops and turns. And, hopefully, crashes.  
The tem gingerly climbed aboard, Stern taking the steering wheel attached to the impulse engine and Kreklor holding on the golf bag rack with one hand, the crook held in the other, ready to snatch their quarry. Dar'ugal took control of the two steering jets that had been mounted to the front of the vehicle.  
"Seat-belts everybody," Stern said, buckling up.  
"Seat-whats?" Simmons asked.  
"Belts. Like crash restraints," Stern explained.  
"Ohhhh," Marsden was awed, "What a clever idea. I wonder why we don't those on Silverado? Or the runabouts? Or the shuttlecraft? Or the-"  
"Let's go," Stern punched power to the engine.  
The cart took off, flying out of the cave like a bat out of hell.  
Heading right for a very large rock.  
Stern pulled at the wheel, frantically trying to steer around the rock. He succeeded in avoiding the rock, but managed to put the hover-cart into a flat spin.  
Working as co-pilot, Dar'ugal worked the steering jets, helping Stern bring the craft under control. But not before Marsden let loose a spray of vomit across the ground.  
"Sick, dude," Simmons groaned.  
"WATCH OUT!" Stern shouted at Dar'ugal. Dar'ugal desperately tried to steer the craft out of the path of a large tanker truck as it came down the road. Skipping off the highway, the lower corner of the cart caught against a large rock, sending Kreklor catapulting off the vehicle and over the side of a cliff.

Simon Jeffery swallowed as he neared Commander Noonan's office, his special assignment held gingerly in one hard. Jeffery had put in extra hours after his shift to finish the project, eager to avoid Noonan's wrath. He'd been too busy even to finish the processing of Episode 6, which he had planned to finally unveil to the crew. He wasn't sure what it was, but he just had this nagging sense that even causing Noonan the slightest inconvenience would be very, very bad.  
Swallowing again, Jeffery walked up to the door to Noonan's office and tapped the door chime.  
"Enter,"  
The doors swished open.  
The office was unchanged.  
Jeffery wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Maybe a dead body or two, or perhaps really dim lighting. But everything was normal. Noonan's assorted knick-knacks, including his old NX-class starship model and pads and documents dating back to the 22nd century will still sitting on the same shelves, the large display screen across from Noonan's desk was displaying a cutaway schematic of Silverado, her internal workings neatly labeled and color coded.  
Noonan on the other hand, was less than normal. Or perhaps more normal, which for him was abnormal.  
The first thing Jeffery noticed was the rigid way Noonan was holding himself. Noonan usually moved with a grace that was so fluid, Jeffery half expected that the strange man had oil in his veins rather than blood. But as the Commander rose from his desk chair, he was carrying himself with a military precision that was more suited to a Starfleet cadet.  
"Mr. Jeffery," Noonan's voice was crisp and clear, the smooth rhythms of his speech replaced by something that was almost…cold, "You've finished so soon. I'm very pleased."  
"Thank you, sir," Jeffery nodded, handing the device over to Noonan.  
Noonan examined it carefully.  
"Excellent craftsmanship," he murmured, "It may be well and good for the Jedi to build their own, but I demand nothing less then the best. And I will admit that your skills with such things far exceed my own."  
He thumbed the activation switch and a bright red beam of energy emerged from one end of the cylinder.  
"Excellent," Noonan repeated.

By the time the rest of the Hazardous team reached the flat plain at the bottom of the cliff Kreklor had not only recovered, he'd found time to set up camp at the base of the cliff. A small fire was already started. An iron spit, probably of ACME construction, was already setup. Some kind of animal was turning on the spit as Kreklor stoked the fire.  
"What are you doing?" Stern demanded.  
"I was hungry," Kreklor said simply, taking down the spit and tearing a leg off, "And you were taking too long."  
"Fair enough," Stern admitted.  
"Come, eat," Kreklor gestured, "Then we will continue our hunt of that vermin!"  
Rengs, Stern, Simmons and even Mardsen proceeded to hack off pieces of whatever unfortunate creature Kreklor had snagged.  
"Not bad," Rengs admitted, "Take out?"  
"No," Kreklor looked insulted, "I caught it! As I will catch that foul bird!"  
"What is it?" Stern frowned, "It's tastes kinda gamey, but I haven't seen any wildlife out here, other than the Road Runner."  
"Let us just say," Kreklor said, an evil gleam in his eye, "that the coyote is much less wily than the Road Runner."  
After finishing dinner, (Kreklor finished dinner, the rest gagged and decided they weren't hungry), the Hazardous Team climbed back on board their vehicle and took off down the highway.  
"Anything yet?" Marsden called to Kreklor, who had a pair of ACME binoculars in his hands as he scanned the horizon.  
"Nothing…nothing…there! Come to 12 degrees!" Kreklor shouted over the wind.  
"Are you kidding?" Stern asked, "Do you really want to go off-roading again?"  
Kreklor considered.  
"Yes!" he shouted back.  
"Screw that!" Stern snapped, "I'll wait for the next right turn!"  
"Do you want to catch that bird or not?" Kreklor demanded,  
"He's a road runner," Simmons pitched in, "The best way to find him is to stay on the roads!"  
Kreklor grunted.  
True to his work, Stern swung the hover-cart hard to the right on the next turn. Not far ahead was a familiar-looking cloud of dust.  
"There he is!" Rengs cried out.  
Kreklor handed the binoculars to Simmons and took hold of his crook.  
"Prepare to die, filthy beast!" Kreklor screamed.  
The Road Runner looked back at them then put on an extra burst of speed. Stern followed suit, increasing power to the impulse engine.  
"We're gaining on him!" Simmons announced. Stern and Dar'ugal were too busy trying to steer the cart around the curves of the road to respond, but Marsden let out a whoop of victory.  
"Don't celebrate just yet," Simmons shouted back, "We're not quite there!"  
Slowly, they inched closer and closer to the Road Runner, despite his best attempts to out run them. Even Simmons couldn't shake a sense of impending victory.  
Nobody noticed that the terrain was getting pretty familiar, or the very familiar bolder that was coming up fast.  
The sequence of events was so fast that anybody watching would have sworn that the hover-cart had appeared from thin air. The Road Runner raced by in a cloud of dust, followed less than half a second later by the hover-cart. The hover-cart, unlike the Road Runner, triggered the motion sensors that had been placed hours before, activating a force field containment unit. The cart slammed into the forced field at full speed, only the combined protection of the inertial dampening unit and the holodeck safety protocols preventing the riders from being liquefied by the impact. Bounding off the field, the cart ricocheted back, striking the rear of the containment box and proceeding to bounce from surface to surface until it finally lost momentum and crashed to the ground.

Stern was the first to drag himself to the side of the road, after deactivating the containment field generator.  
"That really sucked," Simmons groaned, still a little green from the rough ride.  
"Yes, yes it did," Stern agreed.  
"I can't do that again," Rengs confessed.  
"Me neither," agreed Marsden.  
"Let's turn in for the night," Stern suggested, "We'll come up with some fresh ways to torture ourselves in the morning,"  
Nobody felt like arguing. Unwilling to trust their nights rest to the somewhat troublesome ACME camping equipment, they found the nearest cave to settle in for the night.  
"Too bad T'Parief disabled all the holodeck commands," Mardsen mused, "Some music might have been nice."  
"What's with that?" Simmons mused, "Like, what if there was an accident or something?"  
"He has Sylvia monitoring us," Stern guessed, "Just in case."  
"Hmm,"  
"Has anybody ever, y'know, wondered what would happen if Sylvia got, like, REALLY pissed off?" Simmons asked.  
"Pissed off?" Rengs asked, "Sylvia? She's a computer. A sentient, self-aware computer, but still a computer."  
"Holograms are computers," Mardsen said, "But they can get angry. So can androids."  
"Good point," Rengs nodded, trying to find a comfortable patch of floor to curl up on.  
"I mean," Simmons continued, "she IS the ship. Every internal sensor, every turbolift, every replicator is in some way connected to her."  
"Are we talking hypothetically here, or do you think she's a security risk," Stern joked.  
"Oh, hypothetically," Simmons said, "I mean, c'mon. She's far too sweet to be a security risk."  
"She reminds me of my mommy," Marsden said dreamily, "Especially when Yvonnokoff was kidnapped. She just knew what to say to make me feel better."  
"Excuse me," Stern said, "did you just say 'mommy'?"  
"Momma's boy!" Simmons started to chant.  
The conversation degenerated into pointless taunts, before exhaustion finally overwhelmed them.

THE NEXT MORNING, AFTER EVERYBODY IN AND OUT OF THE HOLODECK HAD A GOOD NIGHT"S REST…

"Hey, anybody home?"  
"Mwah?" Stern grumbled, rolling over on the hard ground, muscles protesting.  
"I got it," Masden said, dropping the ACME catalogue he'd been holding to the ground. Obviously the younger officer had already been awake.  
"Two 12 piece buckets, 3 boxes of fries and 3 tubs of salad," an acne-spotted boy in a red and white uniform was standing in the entrance to the cave.  
"Thanks," Marsden muttered, taking the bag from him.  
"What are you doing?" Simmons asked.  
"Ordering breakfast," Marsden replied as the rest of the Hazardous Team started to stir, "I was hungry!"  
"What the hell…chicken?" Stern demanded, opening one bag and taking a sniff, "Who the hell orders chicken for breakfast?"  
"I would," Kreklor stated.  
"That's because the Klingon food groups are Red Meat, White Meat, Poultry and Fish," Stern shot back.  
"I don't care," Rengs declared, "I'm starving!"  
"And you forgot 'Blood'," Kreklor added.  
As soon as his hand reached into the bucket there was a soft chime and the computer voice, not Sylvia's, announced:  
"Mission objectives complete. Holodeck command codes restored. Congratulations players! Please enter your initials into the high score list!"  
"What the hell?" Rengs gasped.  
"Marsden," Stern said slowly, "Where did you get this?"  
"Here," Marsden flipped the ACME catalogue over, showing a back cover filled of advertisements. The most prominent was for 'Poppa Jake's Poulty! If it flaps, we'll fry it!'  
"I just ordered the special," Marsden went on, holding up an ACME Portable Telephone and an ACME credit card.  
"Let me guess," Stern said dryly, "Kentucky Fried Road Runner?"  
"I guess. I didn't really pay attention," Marsden shrugged, taking a bite out of a leg, "Seems pretty easy though, come to think of it. I wonder why the coyote never tried ordering out?"  
"We're idiots," Rengs sighed, "T'Parief never said catch THE Road Runner…he said to catch A road runner,"  
"And we assumed that meant we had to go after the same one as Wile E. Coyote," Simmons finished.  
"So what's the lesson?" Marsden asked.  
Stern thought very carefully.  
"Pay close attention to your mission objectives," he said, "Never make assumptions,"  
"And our Chief of Security watches FAR too many cartoons," Simmons finished.  
"That too," Stern nodded.  
"At least we've got that over and done with," Marsden said, "computer: exit please," The holodeck doors appeared in the middle of the cave wall.  
"Please," Kreklor said, "This was a humiliation, nothing more."  
"You killed and ate a coyote," Simmons pointed out.  
"Good point," Kreklor nodded, "Perhaps it was not a complete dishonor,"  
"I'm ready for some nice, quite everyday security boredom," Rengs sighed as the group walked down the corridor.  
Two crewmen in white body armor complete with helmets came marching around the corner, pushing the Hazardous Team members to the side.  
"What the-" Stern started.  
"Out of the way," said one.  
"Lord Noonan is in a hurry," the other said.  
"Now here this," Jall's voice came over the intercom. His voice was clean and cool; his standard sarcasm nowhere to be heard, "Now here this: Beta, Gamma and Delta shift Sciences and Stellar Cartography personnel to report to Commander T'Parief for reassignment and stormtrooper training. Ensign Pysterzykz, Ensign Pie and Ensign Glenn, report to the main hanger for fighter drills. All civilians are confined to quarters until further notice, repeate, ALL civilians are confined to quarters,"  
Marsden gasped as Noonan came around the corner. He was wearing black body armor with a cape that billowed behind him like roiling thunderclouds. His boots clicked harshly against the deck and he wore an expression of grim contempt.  
"Uh, Command-" Stern started.  
"Lord," Noonan corrected harshly.  
"Uh, Lord Noonan then," Stern continued uneasily, "what-"  
"You've finished your training?" Noonan cut him off.  
"Yes, but-"  
"Excellent. The computer reports a high score. Clean yourselves and report to the secondary hanger deck. The parade drill of our security team is pathetic. You either need to practice and shape up or your own, or we'll send you right back to boot camp."  
"Drill?" Simmons whined, "You mean marching-"  
Simmons was cut off as Noonan made a slight waving gesture. An unseen force flung Simmons against the wall.  
"I will not tolerate this insubordination," Noonan said coldly, "Lieutenant Stern, see that he is suitable punished,"  
"Y-yes sir," Stern stammered.  
Noonan stalked out of site.  
"What the hell was that?" Rengs said softly.  
"I don't know," Stern replied, "But something is really wrong here…"

TO BE CONTINUED


	14. Security Strikes Back

Star Traks: Silverado

2.14 "Security Strikes Back!"

Last time on Star Traks: Silverado…

It it a time of great confusion for Silverado.  
Captain Stafford, under the orders of the now-evil Lord Darth Noonan, has stepped up military actions onboard Silverado to a degree never seen in Starfleet history. Science and research teams are being disbanded and trained in security and tactics. Restraining the civilian population and quietly subverting the security department to his side, Stafford and his crew have become convinced that they are Imperial soldiers, trapped on an unknown vessel.  
A small band of mutineers, led by Lieutenant Jane Fifebee, lies deep undercover, hoping to thwart Noonan's rule and bring justice, liberty and Federation values back to Silverado.  
But with Sylvia and Fifebee mysteriously out of commission, Silverado's best hope lies with Lieutenant Stern and the Hazardous Team, who have only recently learned of the disturbing events…

ACT ONE: THE RESCUE

Captain's Log, Stardate 57983.4  
"Imperial Captain Christopher Stafford reporting. Ship's functions remain impaired. For reasons I cannot fathom, the ship's hyperdrive has been removed and replaced with an inferior propulsion system. TIE fighters and bombers are unaccounted for. We are attempting to make due with what we have as we make our way back to Imperial space. Controls have been altered, as have displays and readouts. The language is fortunately close enough to Imperial English that we can interpret them.  
Rumors persist of mutineers. We have deactivated the holographic operative planted onboard, yet Lord Noonan insists that both he and the Emperor feel the presence of insurgents. Knowing the fate of those that oppose a Dark Lord, I have assigned our finest security team to the task. I hope for their sake security finds them before Noonan does,"

"Weapon status?" Stafford demanded, his grey uniform impeccably pressed.  
Lieutenant Ovens tapped at the tactical console. T'Parief was a loyal, able officer, Stafford would admit, but the non-human gave him the creeps. He'd assigned T'Parief to train crewmembers who had inexplicable come under the impression they were scientists or researchers. Ridiculous, a scientist on a military vessel!  
"Weapons are online," Ovens reported, "But we have no turbo-lasers, ion cannons or proton torpedoes. Concussion missiles are also missing."  
"Then how can our weapons be online?" Stafford demanded sharply, "It sounds to me like you've just ruled them all out!"  
"Sir," Ovens gulped, "We have phasers, photon torpedoes and quantum torpedoes,"  
"Ridiculous," Stafford shook his head, "Has anybody heard of such devices?"  
There was silence on the bridge.  
"Perhaps a test, sir," Lieutenant Jall suggested respectfully.  
"Good idea, Lieutenant," Stafford nodded, "Ensign Yanick, any targets nearby?"  
"I'm picking up an asteroid belt in a nearby solar system, Captain," she reported, "We can be there in an hour, according to this readouts."  
"Do it," Stafford ordered, "I must know whether this heap can defend itself."

"So we're looking for 'mutineers', huh?" Simmons said softly to Stern as the two of them searched Deck 18.  
"Apparently," Stern replied. He'd broken the Hazardous Team into groups and sent them scouting, on the pretense of following Stafford's orders. In reality, he had two tasks for his team: First, find out what the hell is going on. Second, find the mutineers.  
"And when we find them?" Simmons asked.  
"We find out if they're under the same influence as everybody else, or if they're normal crewmembers fighting back against this craziness," Stern said very quietly. He stopped at a wall panel and looked both ways. The coast was clear.  
Stern started tapping, bringing up system status reports.  
"Holographic systems are online," he said, "But Lieutenant Fifebee's program isn't running. In fact, it's under security lock."  
"She wouldn't have been affected by this," Simmons suggested, "So Stafford and Noonan shut her down."  
"Looks like it," Stern said, "But that's not all. Sylvia's gone!"  
"Gone?" Simmons gulped.  
"Gone," Stern confirmed, "All I'm getting is the computer's standard interface. There's no sign of her."  
"You don't think they killed her, do you?" Simmons asked.  
"I don't know," Stern mused, then saw a pair of crewmen in olive uniforms approaching. "C'mon, we're going to attract attention." They resumed their search.

"Approaching the asteroid belt," Yanick reported.  
"Lieutenant," Stern turned to Ovens, "What do you suggest we test first?"  
"Beam weapons," Ovens replied at once, "Torpedoes are a non-renewable resource,"  
"Good thinking," Stafford nodded, "Fire the, er, phasers, then,"  
A bright red beam shot out of Silverado's phaser array, blasting an asteroid into fine powder. Stafford's eyebrows rose.  
"Impressive," he said.  
"Yes sir," replied Ovens, "Far stronger than a turbo-laser blast."  
"Fire a torpedo," Stafford ordered.  
Ovens launched a photon torpedo. The torpedo homed in on a larger asteroid and blew it apart, the flash filling the screen.  
"Excellent," Stafford said, awed, "This ship may be slow, but she's armed to the teeth! "  
"Yes sir," Ovens replied, "In fact, there also appears to be a high-power phaser cannon. Compared to the specifications of the standard phaser beams, the cannon is considerably more powerful."  
The turbolift doors swished open as Lord Noonan and his entourage stepped onto the bridge.  
"You've found something, Captain?" Noonan asked.  
"Yes, my Lord," Stafford snapped to attention, "The weapon systems on this ship far exceed our expectations. We could devastate the surface of a planet with these weapons."  
"Good work, Captain," Noonan nodded, "What report of the mutiny?"  
"Security Squad Alpha is scouring the ship," Stafford reported, "We've checked the holographic insurgent; her program is still under security lock."  
"Any luck in identifying the leaders?"  
"No, my Lord," Stafford swallowed, "Until the mutiny takes action, I doubt we'll be able to identify them."  
"The Emperor doesn't share your opinion," Noonan said coldly.  
"T-the Emperor is here?" Stafford paled. Up at the helm, Yanick gasped.  
"Yes, Caption. And I suggest you improve your efforts – swiftly!"  
"Yes, my Lord," Stafford gulped.

"I think we need to think this through logically," Simmons said as he and Stern searched through Deck 25. They'd been at it for hours now, the day shift had already gone off-duty.  
"Coming from you, there's a surprise," Stern muttered.  
"Logically, who on this ship would be the most likely to revolt against authority?" Simmons asked.  
"Half the ship?" Stern asked.  
"Most likely," Simmons repeated, "not likely."  
"I get you," Stern smiled, "Computer, where is Lieutenant Jall?"  
The robotic computer voice answered.  
"Lieutenant San Jall: Currently located on Deck 26, section 1."  
"Let's go," Stern turned and headed towards the turbolift."

"The Emperor is on board?" Crewman Gibson demanded, "We are SO dead!"  
"This is an opportunity," Jall said firmly, "Kill the head, and the snake dies!"  
"We don't even know where on the ship the Emperor is," Ensign Burke added, "Never mind what security setup has been put in place,"  
"Security has been too busy looking for us to do anything like that," Jall shook his head, "They've got stormtroopers on every deck."  
"That doesn't mean that Engineering didn't install some new system," Yanick pointed out.  
"It's a moot point anyway," Jall decided, "We don't even know where the Emperor is yet."  
"Any luck on rescuing the Princess?'  
Jall shook his head.  
"Princess Jane is still stuck behind the security lockouts," Jall said.  
"Do you think she was right?" Gibson asked, "Y'know about all of us acting strange?"  
"I duno," replied Jall, "But doesn't it make more sense than Lord Noonan's version? That we've somehow been transported millions of light-years onto an unknown alien ship that just happens to use our language?"  
"Point taken."  
The group of insurgents was gathered in The Den; Gibson, Shwaluk and Roscoe's secret clubhouse in the very bottom of the ship. Of course, none of them knew it as such in their somewhat scrambled state. So far as they were concerned, it was a handy hiding place that Gibson just happened to know about when he had joined Yanick and Jall in the Mutiny.  
"Is anybody familiar enough with these computers to rescue Princess Jane?" Yanick asked.  
"I seem to know a lot about them," Jall said, "But I know enough to realize that it would be only too easy for Darth Noonan to find out what we're doing."  
"There was a frantic tapping at the door. To an outside observer, The Den was setup to look like a standard storage closet. Small, cramped and just big enough for two people to go at it like caged rabbits. Only those who realized that the back wall was completely fake would ever suspect that there was anything but cleaning supplies in the locker.  
Peeping through a spyhole, Gibson sighed in relief as he let Crewman Shwaluk into The Den.  
"What's up?" Burke asked.  
"Things are stirred up like an ant's nest out there," Shwaluk gasped, "I was stopped by stormtroopers 4 times on my way here!"  
"You weren't followed, were you?" Jall snapped.  
"No, of course not," Shwaluk assured him.

"Do you really think Shwaluk would be the rebellious type?" Stern asked Simmons. As soon as they had spotted him on Deck 26, Simmons had suggested that Shwaluk might lead them to Jall.  
"Are you kidding? With his luck it's a wonder he hasn't been executed yet," Simmons replied. It was well known on Silverado that if something bad like wild holographic dogs, insane superwomen or Dr. Wowryk's fingernails had to happen to somebody, it would have to happen to Crewman Shwaluk. It made sense then that he would be involved with a foolish mutiny against a superior force.  
"Where is he?" Simmons asked, looking around the corridor. Deck 26 was the very bottom deck of the ship, and as such had very little of interest. They had passed down the central corridor that ran the length of the deck ahead of the antimatter containment pods and were just coming up to the end of the corridor. On one side a narrow maintenance hatchway allowed access to the power conduit feeding the lower phaser array. On the other was a small storage closet.  
"Where the hell did he go?" Simmons asked, tapping his tricorder. Stern opened the maintenance hatch, then the storage closet.  
"Neither one of these go anywhere," Simmons said, pulling up a deck layout, "There are storage rooms on both sides, but no access from here."  
Stern's eyes narrowed as he tapped his own tricorder.  
"I'm picking up 5 life-forms behind this wall," he said softly.  
Simmons frowned.  
"How?" he asked, "The only way into the storage rooms that I know of is through the antimatter storage section. We already searched them from there."  
"I've heard rumors about a hidden room down here," Stern said, taking a closer look in the closet, "I'd say it's just about-"  
The back wall opened to reveal Jall and Yanick, weapons drawn and pointed right at Stern's face.  
"Here," Stern finished.

"Hey, look, we're on your side!" Stern tried explaining for the 5th time.  
"You're part of Noonan's elite security squad!" Yanick replied for the 5th time.  
"Then why didn't we bring 50 crewmen as backup?" Simmons asked.  
"Stormtroopers," Burke corrected him, almost absently.  
"Whatever," Stern shook his head, "Look, Commander Noonan-"  
"Lord Noonan," Jall corrected him.  
"Whatever," Stern glared, "Look, Lord Noonan is supposed to be First Officer of this ship! Stafford's supposed to be the Captain-"  
"He is the Captain," Yanick corrected him.  
"WHATEVER!" Stern snapped, "This is completely f**ked beyond recognition! We' re supposed to have science teams, not armed troops! And it's not 'Security Squad Alpha', it's 'The Hazardous Team'! This isn't an alien warship you've been trapped on, it's a Federation starship, and you're all supposed to be Starfleet Officers!"  
Stern pointed a finger at Gibson.  
"You're supposed to be saying stupid things like 'dude' and 'monkey' while your pants hang halfway down your ass,"  
He pointed at Yanick.  
"You should be doing disgustingly cute blond things like talking to teddy bears and making out with your boyfriend,"  
Jall was next.  
"You," Stern frowned, "Well, you're a rebellious type. But you shouldn't be energetic about it!"  
And finally, Stern turned to Burke.  
"And you! Well, I don't really know you,"  
Jall and Yanick exchanged glances. Stern swallowed, sure he was about to be vaporized.  
"So," Jall said slowly, "you're saying that we're all crazy and none of this is the way it should be?"  
"Uh," Stern swallowed again. Aw hell. If he was going to die, it may as well be from the truth.  
"Yes."  
Slowly, Yanick and Jall lowered their weapons.  
"That's exactly what Princess Jane told us," Jall said, "Although she was much more polite about it,"  
"Princess Jane?" Simmons asked.  
"Princess Jane Fifebee," Yanick explained, "She was the one who helped start the Mutiny…she told us how wrong things were."  
"Of course, we were already trying to overthrown Noonan and restore justice to the people of Silverado," Jall explained.  
"Oookay," Simmons said, "So, uh, where is 'Princess Fifebee'?"  
"Princess Jane," Gibson corrected.  
"Oh forget it," Simmons muttered.  
"Noonan and Stafford have taken her prisoner," Yanick said, "We need to get her back!"

Shortly afterward, the Hazardous Team gathered in The Den, comm-badges discarded to prevent tracking. The Den was getting pretty crowded, so Yanick sent Jall and Gibson back to the upper decks.  
Marsden tapped at the computer terminal in the corner.  
"Noonan's locked Fifebee's program out with his own security access," he reported finally, after several minutes of tapping.  
"Can you break it?" Stern asked.  
"Marsden tapped away.  
"Not from here," he shook his head.  
"I though he was our hostage negotiator," Simmons said.  
"We needed a computer expert," Stern said absently, "he drew the short straw and went for extra training 3 months ago,"  
"I never drew straws," Simmons objected.  
"We decided that your current duties were strain enough on your intellect," Rengs said softly.  
"Why you son of a-"  
"What I could do," Marsden said, "is setup a bypass to the lockout. I can't completely remove the lockout, but if we can open some kind of indirect line between the program and the holographic imaging systems, we can get her going,"  
"Excellent," Stern said, "How do we do that?"  
"I'll need to get to a high level terminal," Marsden said, "The main bridge, auxiliary control, main engineering or computer core control."  
"Lord Noonan's been on the main bridge and in engineering recently," Yanick said, "You really don't want to run into him,"  
"Auxiliary control will be swarming with junior officers," Simmons said.  
"Good point," Stern agreed.  
"See? I have good ideas outside of my-"  
"Computer core control it is," Stern said, "Marsden, Dar'ugal and Rengs, you're with me. The rest of you stay here."  
"I'm going," Yanick said.  
"It's too-"  
"This is my fight," Yanick said firmly, "and I need to know you won't betray us to the Emperor,"  
"Who?"  
"The Emperor," Yanick said again, "Supreme ruler of the Empire,"  
"Uh, and he's here?"  
"Yes," Yanick said softly, "Noonan told us just today,"  
"Doesn't it seem odd that the leader of the Empire would be stranded out here with the rest of you?" Simmons pointed out.  
"Very," Yanick agreed.  
"Doesn't matter yet," Stern decided, "Let's get Fifebee, then go from there,"

She walked slowly down the steps to the front podium of the briefing chamber, the slightly musty smell of the underground installation washed away by her thick perfume. Thick, dark locks cascaded down her back, right to her muscular but nicely proportioned buttocks. The 6 troops sat silently around the table, watching her with their harsh, red eyes. She gave them a broad smile as she settled onto the comfortable stool placed behind the podium.  
"Good morning everybody!" she said with great enthusiasm, "And congratulations on completing your training! Well, yes, I realize you were hooked up to accelerated learning modules for the past week, but still, the results have been impressive! Each of you is more than equal to the task at hand: the destruction of my enemies!"  
"You will leave immediately," she continued, "We'll open the portal long enough for your fighters to depart. You know it takes a large amount of power to reopen the portal, so once you complete your mission you will need to wait for one week before trying to return. You know the procedure, so I won't waste your precious time. Once you arrive, you'll use the encryption codes I've obtained to access the Starfleet database and locate the U.S.S. Silverado. Once you've located her, blast her to pieces!"  
"My Lady," one pilot said, bowing, "Would it not be best to wait until your Confederacy is established first?"  
Slowly dismounting her stool, the woman walked around the table, her hand lightly caressing the shoulder of each of her troops until she arrived at the dissenter.  
"You have a valid point, Sobek-32," she purred, caressing his shoulders as he stiffened in fear. With a deft twist, she dug deep into pressure points, bringing out a roar of pain.  
Scowling, she marched back up to the podium.  
"Those people have sought to thwart my plans from the very beginning!" she snapped, "Three times now, they've tried to stand in my way! I don't care how you do it, I don't care how long it takes, I want Silverado blasted to dust!"  
She took a deep breath, composing herself, then smiled broadly again.  
"They will fall before us," she said happily, reaching for the stylized symbol hanging from a thick chain around her neck. It depicted a warm, yellow happy face with a sword plunging through it, "Victory to the Convivial Confederacy!" she bellowed.  
"Victory!" replied her troops, standing and marching to the door, their fighters and their destiny.  
"Not you," K'Eleese said, stopping the last soldier with a firm grip on a fragile area, "All that shouting has made me just a bit lustful. You will depart on the mission after you have completed some…special objectives…for me first."  
Without further delay, she dragged her victim down to the floor.

Stern, Yanick, Marsden, Dar'ugal and Rengs took the turbolift to Deck 10, then slipped into the jefferies tube and down to Deck 11 to avoid leaving an electronic trail in the computer records. Easing down the corridor, they entered the Computer Core Control room.  
The instant the doors closed, Rengs stunned the lone Ensign manning the chamber.  
"Careful with that in here," Stern advised him," One wrong shot and we're toast,"  
"I know,"  
"Marsden, get started," Stern ordered, "Rengs, let's check out the core,"  
Yanick held her weapon tightly as Marsden sat down at the console and started tapping at the controls.  
"It's going to take me a few minutes to setup the bypass," he said.  
Stern and Rengs walked across the control room and through a narrow door into the first segment of the core itself. Even though the software running on Silverado's computers was badly outdated, the core hardware itself was brand new and state of the art. Racks of isolinear chips and sub-processing units dominated the walls, tiny flashing lights indicating active memory segments. Behind transparent protective panels, Stern could make out the fuzzy shape of the bio-neural gel-packs, special packets of living, lab cultured brain tissue integrated right into the computer systems. The packs gave an impressive boost to the ship's processing power, sorting and storing information far more efficiently than conventional circuitry. The unprecedented combination of old software, new hardware, bizarre Matrian energy fields and just a bit of Jall's tampering had in fact led to the accidental 'birth' of Sylvia as a sentient being during the Matrian encounter the previous year. Stern could see that additional hardware had been attached to one of the gel-packs and recalled overhearing Jeffery mention something about redundant backup's for Sylvia's core gel-pack.  
"Anything?" Stern asked.  
Rengs tapped at his tricorder.  
"I'm not picking up any damage or any power surges at all," Rengs reported.  
"So whatever happened to Sylvia, it's not because of damage to the computer?"  
"I don't think so," Rengs said, slipping his tricorder back onto his belt, "There are two possibilities; either she's been deleted, or she's being restrained like Fifebee."  
"I don't like the first option," Stern said, stepping through the door and back into the control room.:  
And dodged to the right as a glowing red beam slashed in front of his face.  
"Watch out!" Yanick yelled, just a bit too late.  
Darth Noonan brought his glowing lightsaber around for another swing. Stern dropped to the floor as the blade dug into the transparent aluminum window looking into the core, globs of liquid metal solidifying as they dripped down.  
"You thought you could resist the Empire? Traitor!" Noonan snapped. Whirling, he used his lightsaber to deflect the phaser beam that Rengs had shot at him. Rengs found the phaser flying out of his hands. Turning back, Noonan advanced on Stern, who was crawling towards the exit where two stormtroopers were covering Yanick, Marsden and Dar'Ugal. Obviously they had rushed in and taken Yanick, Marsden and company by surprise while Stern was in the core.  
"This will be a day long remembered," Noonan said, raising his lightsaber, "It will see the end of the Mutiny, as it has already seen the end of Princess Fifebee!"  
As he brought down his weapon to cleave Stern in half, the doors hissed open and a glowing blue blade thrust into the room, deflecting Noonan's attack. Noonan stepped back in surprise, bringing his lightsaber to the en guarde position.  
Simon Jeffery stepped through the door, positioning himself between Stern and Noonan.  
"I can't let you kill them," Jeffery said.  
"You are betraying the Empire," Noonan said coldly, "Consider very carefully what you're doing,"  
"I've been considering it very carefully," Jeffery said, quivering just a bit, "ever since you asked me to build your weapon. Somehow, I just knew that I had to oppose you,"  
While the exchange was happening, Stern caught Marsden's eye. Mardsen gave a tiny nod, his eyes flicking to the computer console. He'd finished his task before the stormtroopers arrived!  
"Computer," Stern snapped, "activate Jane Fifebee!"  
With a shimmer, Fifebee materialized in front of the two stormtroopers. With lighting reflexes she reached out and banged their heads together like coconuts.  
"Jane 5-B, Sentient Hologram, yada, yada yada…COME ON!" she snapped, pulling Stern up off the ground and gesturing for the Hazardous Team members to follow.  
Noonan took that moment to strike. Jeffery parried his attack, stepping to the side and launching into a counterattack.  
"You have some skill," Noonan said, blocking Jeffery's blows, "But you cannot hope to defeat me!"  
He stabbed out, aiming for Jeffery's chest. Jeffery swept his weapon up, deflecting the glowing blade to the left. Noonan went into a series of thrusts and jabs, forcing Jeffery to step back and retreat until he was almost pressed against the wall. Noonan pulled back for a sweeping blow-  
And as Jeffery dropped to the floor, Noonan's blade swept right into the computer core control console. The console exploded outward, throwing Noonan back across the room and slamming him into the far wall.  
Gasping for breath, Jeffery pulled himself off the floor, carefully skirting the blobs of molten metal on the floor. He tentatively approached Noonan's body.  
The skin on Noonan's face was horribly burned and twisted, the cloth of his dark robe burnt from his chest, revealing more burned skin. Even as Jeffery watched, the burns seemed to blur, the worst of the damage healing, leaving only wrinkled scar tissue behind. Noonan's eyes snapped open as he drew breath.

"What the hell is going on!" Stern demanded as he followed Fifebee through the jefferies tubes. Moving through the corridor they risked running into more stormtroopers.  
"I don't have time to explain now," she said, "Mr. Jeffery is in extreme danger!"  
"Yeah, so we're leaving, WHY?" Marsden asked.  
"We must get to a transporter room and beam him out, immediately," Fifebee replied, "Regardless of the circumstances; I doubt he'll last long against Darth Noonan,"  
"Oh great," Stern groaned, "You're in this too?"  
"I'm unaffected by the phenomenon," Fifebee said, pulling open an access hatch, "However, I've found that in this situation, 'if you can't beat them, join them' seems to be very appropriate, at least in terms of keeping track of who's who,"  
"Don't you think they'll be guarding the transporter rooms?" Stern asked.  
"No," Fifebee said, "One thing I've learned is that neither the Imperials or the Rebels have any knowledge of transporter technology."  
"Rebels?" Marsden asked, "Oh, you mean mutineers,"  
"Indeed," Fifebee said, "The name might be different, but the similarities between the Rebellion and the Mutiny are clear enough,"  
"Now I'm really confused," Mardsen muttered.

Stepping into the corridors, Stern, Marsden and party were confronted almost immediately by a squad of no less than 15 stormtroopers. Stern's surprised shout proved to be sufficient distraction for the mutineers to dart around a corner and down another corridor.  
"What else is on this deck?" Stern called out.  
"Botanical labs," Fifebee listed, "level two of the fitness facilities, Holodeck 3-"  
"The holodecks!" Stern smiled. His smile vanished quickly as a phaser blast from behind them narrowly missed his head. Darting around yet another corner, they sped to the holodeck.

Ensign Sheldon Kurnadee squinted through his helmet as he chased the mutineers. If he could deliver even one of those traitorous bastards to Lord Noonan, he'd be in for a promotion at the very least. Maybe even financial rewards! There was a bordello in the Corellian system that Kurnadee was just dying to go to. No matter how many partners he had, he never was able to find enough to sate his lusts.  
Moving down the corridor, Kurnadee caught a flash of Princess Fifebee as she slipped between a pair of closing double doors. Consulting his map of the ship, Kurnadee saw that the doors led into an enclosed space, with absolutely no way out. They were trapped!  
Kurnadee stepped through doors, weapon at the ready. What he found astonished him.  
He was in a forest.  
Determined to complete his mission, Kurnadee resisted the temptation to call his commanding officer and demand just what the hell a forest was doing on a starship. Gesturing for the other members of his squad to follow him, he started down a rough path.  
It wasn't long before he started seeing signs. Nailed to the trees, staked into the ground and even flashing in neon, they were everywhere. And they all declared the same message:  
RABBIT SEASON!  
"Meh, what's up, Doc?"  
Kurnadee spun around, his phaser sights coming to rest on a lanky grey rabbit.  
"I'm hunting mutineers!" Kurnadee snapped, "This is an Imperial operation. Move along!"  
"Ahhh," nodded the rabbit, "mutineers, huh? You have fun with that, Doc!"  
"Hold on!" this voice was rougher, and had a sputtering lisp, "You can't let him go! It's rabbit season! Shoot the rabbit!"  
"It's duck season," declared the rabbit calmly.  
Anybody who's ever watched Bugs Bunny should have a pretty clear idea of what happens next. If not, you're missing out. Suffice it to say, Ensign Kurnadee ended the conversation by sending both Bugs and Daffy running amid a hail of phaser fire.  
"Spread out," Kurnadee ordered, "Fifebee and the others are in here somewhere!"  
He never even had a chance to look.  
Before they even knew what had hit them, the entire squad was overrun by a veritable army of cartoon characters.  
Two troopers were taken out by cartoon anvils dropped from high in the trees by a scruffy-looking coyote. Bugs tunneled under the troopers, popping out of the ground long enough to shove sticks of cartoon dynamite in their boots, while several others were knocked off their feet by the swirling maelstrom known as 'Taz'.

"That aught to keep them busy for a while," Stern declared.  
"You have been spending too much time with Mr. T'Parief," Fifebee declared, "I believe that once this is over, I shall have to have a strong word with the Captain regarding cartoon fixations among his staff."  
"I think this whole situation proves that we've been watching too much television of all sorts," Marsden added.  
"So, what's next?" Stern asked.  
"Perhaps we should save Mr. Jeffery from an untimely death?" Fifebee suggested.  
"Oh, right."

Noonan leapt from the floor, his saber rising up in an arc. Jeffery stumbled backwards, barely avoiding being eviscerated by Noonan's saber.  
"Very clever," Noonan growled, "but not clever enough. It takes more than a few sparks to destroy a Dark Lord of the Sith!"  
"We WILL destroy you!" Jeffery snarled, swinging his blade so wildly that Noonan was forced to take a step back.  
Raising one hand, Noonan reached out mentally, lifting Jeffery off his feet.  
"I can destroy YOU any time I want," he said coolly, darting in to hold the tip of his blade at Jeffery's throat.  
Jeffery dissolved in the blue glow of a Starfleet transporter beam.

ACT TWO: THE RETURN OF THE FEDERATION

The lights were low, the stars outside the transparent aluminum windows burned steadily as Darth Noonan entered the room. Faded scar tissue streaked his once handsome features, pulling his mouth into a jagged grimace. He looked around briefly, taking in the deep black walls, the red velvet curtains and the small series of steps leading to the throne.  
Had his memories been working properly, Noonan would have noticed that Silverado's Human Resources office really hadn't changed much. Only the flat black filing cabinets and large mahogany desk were missing, the cabinets having been replaced with gleaming computer panels and the desk with the towering throne. The heavy chair was turned away from Noonan, giving the occupant a clear view of the stars.  
"My Master," Noonan said, dropping to his knees.  
"There has been a great disturbance," the low voice croaked.  
"Yes, my Master,"  
"We have a new enemy: Simon Jeffery. He has betrayed us."  
"He has indeed," Noonan agreed, "I will hunt him down and destroy him,"  
"Patience," the Emperor advised, "Jeffery will be punished. But his punishment can be so much more than just his death."  
"What are your orders?" Noonan asked.  
"Leave the Mutiny to me," croaked the Emperor, turning slowly in the throne to reveal a dark, cloaked figure, "In time, Jeffery will seek you out. And when he does, you will bring him to see me,"  
"He's just an engineer," Noonan said.  
"He will pay for his betrayal at my feet," the Emperor vowed, "And the Mutiny will be crushed."

"I think it's time for that explanation you promised us," Stern said as he, Jeffery, Yanick and the Hazardous Team followed Fifebee through the cramped jefferies tubes and machine rooms of maintenance sub-level A. Silverado had two such decks. When she was originally designed, in the very early days of the Ambassador-class ships, the extra space had been needed for new, experimental technologies like replicators, isolinear data networks and enhanced structural integrity fields. Of course, the engineers had inevitably figured out how to shrink such devices, and most production-run Ambassador-class vessels had no need of such spaces. Silverado, being a relic of the past, had two such sub-levels, A and B. Each was less than half the height of a standard deck. Starfleet engineering had just added a few extra inches to every other deck in the new designs, as they were lazy and it was much easier than redesigning the outer hull. The sub-levels had been empty for most of Silverado's new incarnation as Operation Salvage flagship, with the exception of a rather nasty incident following the Matrian encounter. Now, Fifebee had determined them to be the perfect hiding place for the Mutiny.  
"If we forgot about these half-decks as Starfleet Officers," Fifebee explained, "The odds of 'Imperial' Starfleet Officers remembering them are pretty slim."  
"So what the hell is going on?" Stern demanded.  
Fifebee located their destination, a rectangular room that once held replicator control circuitry. Yanick and Jeffery sat down in one corner so Yanick could fill their new ally in on the situation.  
"Everybody has been brainwashed," she said simply.  
"Thank you, Mistress of the Obvious," Simmons snapped, trying hard not to bang his head on the low ceilings, "we kinda got that part!"  
"Mr. Jeffery was experimenting with a new way of processing old movies into the holodeck," Fifebee explained.  
"That's pretty cool," Marsden said.  
"Quite," Fifebee nodded, "He setup a subroutine that would allow Sylvia to recompile the two dimensional videos into three dimensional holograms."  
"It makes sense," Marsden nodded, "putting together a holodeck program can be pretty hard work. But the more you let the computer do, the easier it is, but the less specific your program will be. Sounds like Jeffery found a good way around that; Sylvia's much more creative than any computer program or hologram in the fleet,"  
"Except he made a pretty big mistake," Fifebee snapped, slightly offended, "The program he and Sylvia put into motion made too many assumptions, too many extrapolations. It filled the holodeck with repetitive patterns, unconscious suggestions and images that could be subconsciously interpreted as commands!"  
"Huh?" Stern said.  
"Anybody who went into that holodeck was bombarded with so many subliminal messages, they were brainwashed into thinking they were part of the movie!" Fifebee said, frustration clearly showing, "The effects were cumulative, so it took a few days to kick in, and of course it isn't total. But now we have a bunch of people being pulled one way by the movies and another way by their own personalities! Star Wars never had a Darth Noonan, or an Imperial Captain Stafford. That's Noonan and Stafford's way of fitting into the movie!"  
"And the Mutiny?" Simmons asked.  
"The focal point of the last three Star Wars movies is the fight of a Rebel Alliance against an evil Galactic Empire. Noonan and Stafford clearly represent the Empire, while Yanick, Jall and now Jeffery represent the Rebels,"  
"What about the Emperor," Yanick said, speaking up for the first time.  
"The Emperor is here?" Fifebee asked, shocked.  
"While you were away," Yanick explained.  
"What, so the Emperor is like the big bad?" Stern asked.  
"The Emperor doesn't arrive in person in this fashion until the last movie," Fifebee said, "Prior to that, he appears either as a hologram, or acting as the political head of the Empire. To arrive in person like this, during a time of escalated conflict between the Empire and the Mutiny deeply coincides with his behavior in the final movie."  
"So?" Marsden asked.  
"They didn't see the last movie, did they," Stern guessed.  
Fifebee nodded.  
"The effects kicked in fully after the 5th episode," she said, "And yet they are following patterns that are leading to the same conclusion. Many elements are missing, but the struggle between Jeffery and Noonan, the arrival of the Emperor, your rescue of me and this council of war against the Empire that we're holding now all parallel the final episode in the epic."  
"What is it with us and brainwashing?" Simmons complained, "Matrian devices, Senousian hormones…our brains must be pretty damned clean by now!"  
So how do we use that to our advantage?" Stern asked.  
"Logically," Fifebee said, "we need to identify the neural sequences that have been affected and take steps to neutralize them,"  
"That could take weeks!" Stern objected, "We don't have weeks!"  
"It's the logical course of action," Fifebee said again.  
"If I've learned anything in the past two days," Stern smiled, "it's that logic doesn't always work," he paced for a moment. Well, paced as best he could in a 4 foot high room on his hands and knees.  
"You said this was like a hypnotic suggesting thing, right?" Marsden said, scratching his head.  
"The exact words I used were 'subliminal messages'," Fifebee stated, "but in all honesty, I have no idea. Whether it was hypnotic suggestions, subliminal messages or magical fairies, the results are the same,"  
"Right," Rengs said thoughtfully, "but hypnotic suggestions usually have a wake-up trigger. Some Bajoran rituals involve hypnosis, and I remember that the monks always have a signal that snaps you out of it,"  
"Yes," Fifebee nodded, "as a way to end the trance,"  
"So if there's any kind of hypnosis involved, we just have to find their trigger," Marsden finished.  
"What if we played out the entire story?" Stern said finally, "If they think the whole thing is over, would they revert back to themselves?"  
"I have no idea," Fifebee shrugged, "We don't even know if hypnosis is involved. Several of my personalities do see the advantage of your suggestions, however."  
"Hold on," Simmons interrupted, "how can they finish the story if they don't know how it ends?"  
"Maybe some of them read the book? Or maybe just through intuition?" Rengs guessed, "I mean, one thing humans and Bajorans have in common is that in the really popular classics, the good guys usually win."  
"It's a start," Stern admitted, "but it's still a bit more logical than I would've liked,"  
"So, what next?" Simmons asked.  
BANG! BANG!  
"No what I was expecting," Simmons quivered.  
Stern and Rengs readied their weapons as Fifebee carefully opened the hatch.  
"Thank God I found you," Dr. Wowryk sighed as she slipped quickly into the room and closed the hatch behind her. Stern and Rengs did not lower their weapons.  
"How did you find us?" Yanick demanded.  
Wowryk looked nervous.  
"I followed you," she finally said, "I know something's not right on this ship,"  
"How do we know you're not working for Noonan," Yanick said, suspiciously.  
As Yanick and Jeffery were interrogating Worwyk, Stern motioned for the Hazardous Team to join him in an adjoining section. Fifebee crouched between the two groups, paying close attention to both conversations.  
"We need to back off," Stern said without preamble, "Whatever's happening here, it's clearly Noonan and Stafford vs. Yanick and Jall,"  
"Actually," Fifebee said, "based on the original storyline, it's actually Noonan and the Emperor vs. myself and Jeffery. Although I find my role has transitioned to something closer to that of Mon Mothma as opposed to Princess Leia."  
"Mon who?" Kreklor demanded.  
"She was the leader of the Rebellion," Fifebee explained, "she set the battle plan for the attack against the second Death Star,"  
"Uh, whatever," Stern muttered.  
"But your point is well taken," Fifebee went on, "The leadership in this situation clearly must pass to myself as a ranking officer. I feel the Hazardous Team would be best deployed as Rebel troops, helping us in our attack against the Emperor,"  
"Excuse me," Stern said, "But I'm pretty sure I have seniority, Lieutenant,"  
"You object?" Fifebee inquired politely.  
"Not really," Stern sighed, "so how is this story supposed to end?"  
"The Rebel Alliance attacks the Imperial Death Star," Fifebee explained, "They send a small team to disable a security field while the fleet engages the Imperial ships. Skywalker, the hero of the story, is taken before the Emperor. The Emperor is defeated by his own apprentice and the Death Star is destroyed."  
"So how do we parallel that?" Stern asked.  
"The brig," Kreklor stated.  
"Yes?" Fifebee asked.  
"Stafford and T'Parief must have done something with the crewmen who were unaffected by the holodeck, or who never bothered to watch the foolish human show," Kreklor explained, "They are probably in the brig. We will attack the brig security field generator and free them,"  
"That's one part," Stern nodded, "How about the Death Star attack?"  
"What's the most powerful weapon on the ship?" Stern asked, "The pulse phaser cannon. Sure, it won't blast a planet to dust, but still…"  
"Let's just be sure we only disable it," Simmons spoke up, "If we destroy that thing, T'Parief will destroy US!"  
"We'll destroy the cannon's main power coupling," Stern decided, "that's close enough, but repairable,"  
"That's the easy part," Fifebee stated, "We still need to get to the Emperor,"  
"I can help you with that," Wowryk stated calmly as she, Yanick and Jeffery came to join the conversation. Wowryk and Jeffery sat next to each other, arms wrapped.  
"Looks like the brainwashed Dr. Wowryk is much more loveable than the real one," Simmons quipped.  
"Shut up," Stern muttered.  
"I know where the Emperor is," Wowryk said, "And I'll take Simon there,"  
Stern balked. He was about to open his mouth and denounce Wowryk's suggestion as a foolish one, sending one man against the head of the Empire.  
"Perfect," Fifebee smiled, cutting Stern off with a sharp look.

Stern, Rengs, Dar'ugal and Kreklor walked calmly into the security officer. The young crewman manning the reception desk took one look at them and hit the alarm. Even as the security alert started ringing, Rengs' well-placed stun shot knocked him to the floor.  
The doors to the squad room immediately opened, disgorging 4 stormtroopers in full armor. The Hazardous Team members fired immediately, dropping the first two and ducking behind the desk as even more spilled out.  
"I really think the stealthy approach would have worked better," Rengs' shouted, ducking to avoid a phaser blast.  
"That rather defeats the purpose of a distraction, don't you think?" Kreklor girnned, stunning another trooper.

"Your crew tries my patience, Captain," Darth Noonan said from his seat.  
"We'll take care of this mutiny," Stafford assured the Dark Lord.  
"See that you do," Noonan said coolly.  
"Sir," Ensign Day reported from Ops, "transmission from the Emperor,"  
"Put it through," Noonan said before Stafford could speak. The cloaked visage of the Emperor appeared on the screen. Heads around the bridge bowed in respect.  
"Lord Noonan," croaked the figure, "you will come to my chambers immediately. Our guest will be arriving momentarily,"  
"As you wish," Noonan bowed. The screen went blank. Without a word to anybody, Noonan marched off the bridge into the turbolift.  
"Thank God," Stafford said softly as the doors closed.

Marsden and Simmons exited the jefferies tube system on Deck 11, mere meters away from the phaser control room, and the main power conduit to the phaser cannon.  
"I don't get it," Marsden said, "The cannon's not that important. I mean, we've got 11 other phaser arrays and 4 torpedo tubes!"  
"That's not the point," Simmons reminded him, "Our mission is to go after the biggest thing that goes 'boom', like the Rebels going after the Death Star."  
"Blowing up stuff on our own ship still sucks," Marsden complained.  
"Not like we've never done it before," Simmons muttered.  
"Hey, you're the dude in charge of the plasma grenades!"  
"It was an accident!" Simmons said defensively, "At least Stafford has all the civilians safely sealed on decks 6 and 7 this time.  
ZZAAAPPP!  
Both men were thrown to the ground as they struck a security field.

Jeffery followed Wowryk through the Jefferies tube and out into the Deck 5 corridor. Jeffery recognized their location as being right outside of Human Resources, the office occupied by Lydia Thomspon, who had been assigned to keep an eye on the ship by President Dillon's supporters. He'd been in there just yesterday, doing some minor refit work for Noonan.  
"I'm an idiot," Jeffery muttered to himself, fingering his lightsaber, "It should have been obvious to me…why else would Noonan request a throne for this room, unless the Emperor was planning on taking up residence.  
"How very astute," Noonan said as the doors to the office swished open, revealing the now-hideously-scarred officer. Jeffery found his lightsaber pulled out of his hands by an invisible force. It landed square in Noonan's grasp.  
"The Emperor has been expecting you," Noonan said. Two stormtroopers came up from behind, gripping Jeffery by the arms as Noonan turned to lead him into the office.  
They stepped through a tiny reception room, and into what had become the Throne Room.  
Jeffery gulped as he took in the low, somber lighting, the dark colours, and the single, tall throne, turned to look out the windows, hiding the occupant from view.  
Noonan walked towards the throne, stopped and knelt at the flight of 3 steps leading to the throne platform.  
"Jeffery has arrived, my master,"  
"Excellent," Jeffery shuddered at the dry, croaking voice. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. Thoughts of the nature of the voice fled his head as he took in the next words:  
"You have done well, Dr. Wowryk," it croaked, "you have exceeded my expectations,"  
Jeffery spun around to face Wowryk, watching in horror as she knelt on the floor next to Noonan. There were no stormtroopers guarding her, and as she looked back briefly at Jeffery, he saw just the tiniest hint of regret on her face.  
"Rise, my servants," Croaked the Emperor.  
The throne turned slowly, revealing a hunched, cloaked figure sunk into thick padding.  
"I'm looking forward to completing your training," said the Emperor, a smile faintly visible from the depths of the dark hood, "It time, you will be powerful. And you will me mine!"  
"You're wrong," Jeffery snapped, "This is all wrong! This isn't the way it's supposed to be!"  
"Oh no," laughed the Emperor, "It seems to me that things are going just…fine,"  
"We're going to defeat you," Jeffery said with confidence he really didn't feel, "We're going to set things right!"  
"Perhaps you refer to the attack of your mutinous security squad?" the Emperor inquired, "Attempting to free other dissenters? I assure you, my troops will handle them. It was I who allowed the mutiny to know their location! Two squads of stormtroopers will make quick work of them!"  
Jeffery gasped as the Emperor stood, the underlying light coming from panels near the floor lighting illuminating its, no, HER features.  
"I'm afraid the security fields I've put in place will be quite sufficient in protecting the main weapons from your sabotage squad," Empress Sylvia said, a sadistic grin splitting her heavily creased features.

"Simmons to Stern,"  
"I'm a little busy here," Stern said, picking off stormtroopers while Dar'ugal worked the brig control panel, trying to release the prisoners, "they just keep coming, and coming!"  
"There's a security field up around the phaser control room," Simmons reported.  
"Makes sense that the Empire would protect their most powerful weapon," Rengs said. The attacking stormtroopers were having problems getting into the security offices due to the large pile of stunned bodies lying in the door. Clearly, hastily trained science personnel didn't have much of a chance against the Hazardous Team.  
"Makes sense?" Stern shouted, "None of this makes sense! Simmons! Use your security override to shut down the field!"  
"Duh! I tried that, it didn't work,"  
"Looks like we get to shut it down from here," Rengs sighed, stunning another stormtrooper.

Imperial Captain Stafford sat in his command chair, an annoyed look on his face.  
"What do you mean we can't get them?" he said crossly.  
"Sir," T'Parief reported, "they're stunning our troops as quickly as we send them in, our armor is having no effect."  
"Get down there," Stafford ordered, "Tear them limb from limb if you have to!"  
"Yes, sir," T'Parief gave a toothy grin.  
"Sir," Day spoke up again, "I'm picking up a distress call."  
"From where?" Stafford turned to Lieutenant Ovens at Tactical.  
"A small ship, could be a fighter or scout," Ovens reported, "It's in orbit around a moon on the far side of the system."  
"Take us in closer," Stafford ordered.

Across the system, Sobek-34 watched his displays as Silverado altered course to intercept him. The Federation ship was huge, compared to his tiny fighter. No matter, a fight wasn't exactly what he had planned. He frowned as he eyed his scanners; he was picking up weapons fire! According to the schematic K'Eleese had given him, there was a pretty intense fire-fight going on in the security section.  
He hailed the ship.  
"Silverado," he said, broadcasting only audio, "We require assistance at once. Our life support is failing. Beam us to your ship immediately." He affixed a tricorder, modified to emit lift readings, to the large anti-matter bomb sitting in his copilot seat.

Stafford frowned.  
"What does he take us for?" he snapped after the clearly non-human voice finished its demand, "Servants? Slaves? We are officers of the Imperial Starfleet and don't take orders from the likes of him!"  
"And what does 'beaming' mean," Pye wondered from the helm.  
"Alien vessel," Stafford snapped, "This is Captain Stafford of the Imperial Star Ambassador Silverado. Power down your engines and prepare to be boarded. Your vessel is being impounded in the name of the Empire!"

Sobek-34 frowned.  
"What the hell?" he muttered to himself.  
These were Starfleet officers; they were supposed to be obsessed with the saving of lives, no matter what! That was the whole cornerstone of the attack strategy!  
He tweaked the life signs being emitted by the tricorder. Somebody watching a life-form readout on Silverado's bridge would think there was an injured person on Sobek's ship.

"Silverado!" rasped the voice over the com, "beam us over now! We're dying over here!"  
Ignoring the sensor readouts, Lieutenant Ovens sneered.  
"Permission to blast that space scum to dust?"  
"Disable his engines first," Stafford said, settling into his chair, "Give him some time to contemplate his foolish actions. Then blow him to pieces.

Sobek-34 yelped as he saw Silverado's lower phaser array power up. With lighting reflexes he just barely managed to dodge the phaser blast that tore through space towards his ship. Flinging full power to his shields (and disarming the explosive in his cockpit) he opened a channel to the rest of his companions.  
"They did not fall for it. Attack!"

"I'm picking up more ships!" Ovens snapped from Tactical, "I make it 6 heavy fighters! They're closing fast!"  
"Shields," Stafford said calmly, "arm the weapons. It's time to find out what this ship can do!"  
"Shields are up," Ovens reported. No sooner did he say that then all 6 of the ships opened fire.

Stern took careful aim at a white-suited stormtrooper climbing the pile of stunned bodies as he tried to charge the security office, and was promptly thrown on his back as the floor bucked under him.  
"That was a weapons blast!" Rengs snapped.  
"I think things just got far more complicated," Stern growled, re-aiming and firing at the approaching trooper.

Jeffery stumbled as the ship shook, falling to the floor.  
"Captain," Sylvia tapped a comm panel, annoyed, "What is the meaning of this?"  
"We're under attack by a squadron of fighters, your Excellency," Stafford's tinny voice reported over the comm.  
"Destroy them," Sylvia snapped.  
"Yes, Excellency," Stafford replied. Sylvia cut off the channel. The ship shook again.  
"Guards, leave," Sylvia croaked, her normally cheerful voice a haggard parody of its former self, "Simon Jeffery. You were a loyal officer of the Imperial Fleet. Your skills can be of much use to us. Do not turn away from your destiny! Join us, and help us end this conflict!"  
"Why should I help you?" demanded Jeffery.  
"You don't know the power…"  
As the Empress droned on, Jeffery planned his next move. He didn't know squat about whether Fifebee and Stern were right, and that everything that was happening was a hypnotic illusion. What he did know was that something, deep down, was telling him that Noonan and the Emperor/Empress had to be destroyed. That destroying them would fix everything, make everything A-OK again.  
But how could he do that? Wowryk was a traitor, looking on from near the throne. Noonan was the big villain, standing there with Jeffery's lightsaber in his hand. And the Empress, droning on about power, was obviously not going to help him.

"Our dorsal shields are weakening," reported Ovens as the attacking ships came around for another pass.  
"Return fire," snapped Stafford.  
Ovens targeted the lead ship with Silverado's phaser weapons. Fiery red beams of destruction shot out, connecting with 3 of the 6 ships. One ship, its shields weakened by previous hits, burst into a bright starburst of exploding fuel.  
"I've never seen fighters like this," Day reported from Ops, "They're not TIE fighters, X-wings, or anything remotely familiar. They've got the same weapons as Silverado does…no turbo-lasers or proton torpedoes.  
"We're evening matched," Stafford said grimly, "Fire quantum torpedoes,"  
The bright blue torpedoes homed in on another fighter, blasting it to pieces. A phaser blast struck another, disabling it and sending it spinning off into space.  
The remaining three ships ducked in behind Silverado's warp nacelles, targeting the smaller phaser arrays mounted on the nacelle pylons. Pye worked at the helm to spin the ship around, but the smaller fighters buzzed around the much larger ship like wasps attacking a bull, firing bright photon torpedoes that struck Silverado's weakening shields.

"Got it!" Rengs snapped as the security field protecting the phaser control room fell, "Marsden! Simmons! You're clear!"  
"Confirmed," came Simmons on the comm.  
"RAAUUGGGHHHH!"  
Rengs squealed in fear, abandoning any shred of dignity as an enraged, green-scaled lizard (T'Parief) came barreling into the room, mouth open to reveal sharp fangs, claws extended.  
Kreklor and Stern pivoted as one, catching the brainwashed security chief with two well-placed, heavy stun blasts. He skidded across the carpet, landing in a pile at Rengs' feet.  
"He's going to be SO pissed at us," Stern said after a moments silence, eyeing his unconscious boss.  
"Yup," Rengs said, patting Stern on the shoulder, "thank the Prophets I'm not the one that shot him,"  
"You were almost the one he disemboweled," Kreklor stated.  
"I'll just disable those brig force fields now," said Rengs.

This time, when the ship bucked like a stung bronco, Jeffery was ready. He launched himself at Noonan, grabbing his lightsaber from Noonan's grip. He thumbed the switch, igniting the bright blue beam and swinging.  
Noonan blocked him, his own weapon glowing a brilliant red. Jeffery swung again, and again, knowing that if only he could take out the evil duo, all would be well. Noonan blocked each attack, then went on the offensive, driving Jeffery across the room and back towards the throne. Abandoning his attack on Noonan, Jeffery pivoted and launched himself at the Empress.  
Noonan beat him there, blocking his attack as Sylvia cackled loudly.  
Grunting, Jeffery broke his blade free of Noonan's, swinging at the first officer's head.  
Noonan ducked, then swung back at Jeffery, who barely managed to jump back from the red blade. Giving a harsh battle-cry, Jeffery launched himself at Noonan, striking his blade to the side with his own and crashing right up against him, knocking both to the floor. Jeffery rolled and struck blindly with his blade, hoping to sever Noonan's head from his neck.  
He missed, of course, but the result was just as devastating.  
Noonan screamed as his left arm was sliced off just above the elbow, the severed limb smoking as the heat from the lightsaber blade cauterized the wound. Jeffery climbed shakily to his feet then hovered over Noonan, his blade pointed right at his adversary's neck.  
"Good!" Sylvia clapped, a dark smile on her face, "Now finish him off…and take your place at my side."  
Jeffery raised his arm to strike, then caught sight of Noel, still standing by the side, a look of fearful anticipation on her face. Was she afraid that he'd kill Noonan? Should he kill Noonan? If that's what the Empress wanted, Jeffery thought to himself, maybe it would be the wrong thing to do.  
Not to mention that if Fifebee was right, he'd be killing an innocent, albeit brainwashed, man.  
That decided it. Jeffery shut down his lightsaber and clipped it to his belt.  
"F**k you, bitch," he spat, advancing on the Empress.

Sobek-31 considered his options.  
Despite their best efforts, his 5 companions had been blasted to dust by the vessel they'd been sent to destroy. Their main plan had been a sneak attack; take advantage of Starfleet's ethics and morals by faking a distress call as a means to send a large explosive onto Silverado. For some bizarre reason, the Starfleet fools had attacked them instead, putting the Sobeks at a serious disadvantage. Clearly, it was his duty to report the incident back to K'Eleese, so that she might make other plans to deal with her hated enemies.

"The last ship is breaking off," Ovens reported.  
"Lock onto them with the phaser cannon," Stafford ordered, "The one survivor in the disabled craft will be sufficient for an interrogation. We will learn who had the audacity to assault an Imperial starship. But for this one, we will set an example."  
Ovens tapped as his weapons console, getting only a sharp beep in response.  
"Sir, the cannon is offline!" he snapped, "I'm picking up serious damage to the power relays! We've been sabotaged!"

"If you will not serve me," the Empress said coldly, "you will be destroyed!"  
Power surged from the display panels on the walls of the room, arcing across the space between and catching Jeffery square in the discharge. His weapon flew from his grasp as he screamed in pain.  
"You idiot," the Empress said, "finally, you understand the control I wield,"  
Another blast coursed through Jeffery.  
"You will pay the price for your treachery!"  
Jeffery screamed again.

Wowryk watched the scene play out before her.  
Dear, sweet Simon writhed on the deck as the Empress, through some devilish control of the ship's systems, sent wave after wave of power through him. The Empress had promised to destroy the sinners and heretics, but was this God's will?  
Could it be the will of God that her boyfriend dies for a tyrannical dictator?  
No.  
Picking up Simon's fallen weapon, Wowryk advanced on Sylvia, ignited the lightsaber and cut her down.

Of course, since Sylvia was the computer personality; she didn't have a cloaked, withered body. But as the lightsaber passed through the holographic representation that Sylvia's subconscious had generated, the 'Empress' realized that her death was at hand.  
As though a cord had been cut, Sylvia snapped back to full awareness, becoming aware that something had severely disrupted her perceptual subroutines and thoroughly scrambled her sense of self. The blocks her subconscious had setup between her and the regular computer systems fell. She had cut herself off, her subconscious trying to give her as much of a 'human' perspective as possible in order to fit in with her 'Emperor' persona. That personality, of course, didn't include a full awareness and integration into all ship's systems, merely those that suited her needs as Empress.  
As the blocks fell away, Sylvia analyzed ship's records; the Captain's Log, system status and activity reports, personal logs and security reports. Finding nothing but chaos and confusion, she quickly latched on the one individual capable of giving her the quickest and most concise explanation.

Hiding in the hidden room, Fifebee stiffened.  
"What is it?" Yanick asked.  
"They were successful," Fifebee said, "Sylvia is back to normal, and is aware of the situation. Quick, we need to get you to a video screen."

Captain's Log, Stardate 57985.6  
"Sylvia has successfully used Jeffery's little conversion program to create a counter program that removed all the screwed up mental impulses from the crew. We no longer think we're Imperials! Hurray! At least the brainwashing explains why I managed to sit though nearly 10 hours of that Star Wars stuff…I sure can't imagine sitting through it in a sane frame of mind. Actually, no, it wasn't that bad. I think I'll play the original versions for Cartoon Night next month. I know, they're not cartoons, but we're broadening our horizons!"  
"We've had no fatalities, although about 80 crewmen woke up with horrible phaser hangovers. Commendations go to the entire Hazardous Team, as well as Lieutenant Fifebee, for working hard to resolve the entire situation."  
"We've located the alien fighter that we disabled. Unfortunately, the pilot did not survive. But since reviewing the sensor scans of the battle reveal that the ship that sent out the distress call was packed with antimatter explosives, we're really not feeling very guilty about it. We've beamed the body aboard for analysis, in the hopes of finding out who they are and why they attacked us.  
"In the meantime, Sylvia has prepared a little show and tell for us, to show us exactly what we've been up to the past two days."

"That was AWFUL!" Jeffery cried as they left the holodeck, his thick accent back with a vengeance, "We've completely BUTCHERED Star Wars!"  
"What?" Stafford asked, "the good guys won, the bad guys lost, end of story! Sounds OK to me!"  
"But the ending was supposed to be Vader's great redemption!" Jeffery said loudly, "he was supposed to feel all guilty about being forced to watch his son being murdered! He was supposed to kill the Emperor and return to the light side, not lie there while somebody ELSE did it!"  
"Jeffery," Jall said tiredly, "I'm so very sorry that we didn't live up to your expectations, "but if you don't stop talking Star Wars, I am going to KILL YOU!"  
"I second that," declared T'Parief, "I do not wish to think of the foolish things we have done."  
"One thing that's bothering me," Noonan said, his arm reattached, "Didn't you use the same technology to create the Hazardous Team's Road Runner scenario?"  
"They started several days after we did," Jeffery said, realization dawning, "They won't feel the effects until-"  
"BEEP! BEEP!"  
Lieutenant Stern ran down the corridor at top speed. Seconds later, Crewman Kreklor followed, a knife and fork in hand and tongue dangling from his mouth.  
"Oh Sylvia!" Stafford called.  
"One deprogramming program, coming up!" Sylvia said happily, her normal personality restored.  
"Thanks, Sylvia,"  
"Wowryk to Stafford," Wowryk called over the comm, her voice shaking over the link.  
"Stafford here,"  
"Captain, I need you in Sickbay now, please. We have a serious problem."  
Stafford and Noonan exchanged looks. Wowryk's voice, while very worried, was also polite and respectful. Clearly, something serious and potentially terrible had happened.

In Sickbay, Wowryk gulped as she walked around the body that had been beamed to Sickbay for analysis. The uniform was unfamiliar, but the features weren't. The green scales, the knarled cranial ridges, the small sensory nubs.  
The razor-sharp teeth and retractable claws.  
Yanick had shown her holos of T'Parief's brothers. They didn't look anything like him. The body lying her bio-bed, well…  
Apparently, their one-of-a-kind, cross-breed security officer wasn't quite so one-of-a-kind after all.

End


	15. Nobody's Perfect - Part One

Star Traks: Silverado

2.15 "Nobody's Perfect, Part 1"

Captain's Log, Stardate 58025.7:

"As per Starfleet Orders, we're proceeding directly to the nearest outpost, Starbase 45 to await the arrival of Admiral Edward Tunney. It would seem our discovery of a T'Parief look-alike has concerned Starfleet sufficiently to send Tunney and a team of specialists in person to examine the body. But I guess they're not concerned enough to really give us any orders other than 'hurry up and wait'! Not that it really matters. It's not like that corpse is going to get up and leave or anything,"

Stafford paused in his log recording for a moment to turn to Wowryk.  
"Right?" he asked.  
Rolling her eyes, Wowryk nodded.  
Stafford returned to his log.

"On the other hand, Starfleet is paying attention to us and taking us very seriously. I wonder if we're in trouble or something?"  
"Regardless, I'm determined to give Tunney a proper reception when he arrives. Never mind that he is my commanding officer, he's also the guy who kept Unbalanced Equations out of Guinanco's hands,"

Stafford, Jeffery, Wowryk and Yanick were reclining comfortably in the Captain's Dining Room while a Guinanco waiter set their meals in front of them. Little Luke, AKA Lord Stalart, was sitting in a high chair next to Wowryk. He and Stafford were eying each other grimly.  
/So, Captain,/ Stalart thought-spoke, /We meet again. Gaze deeply into my eyes, and behold your doom!/  
"Did you have to bring him?" Stafford asked Wowryk, oblivious to Stalart's telepathy, "He's staring at me!"  
"My taking care of him was YOUR idea," Wowyrk pointed out.  
"Yeah," Stafford sighed, "As you've reminded me about 200 times. As long as he doesn't make a fuss,"  
"May I offer anybody a refill on your beverages?" the Guinanco waiter asked calmly, "Perhaps relationship advice?"  
"No, thank you," Stafford said sharply.  
Nodding, the waiter stepped into the tiny lift that took him back down to the galley.  
BE-DEEP!  
"Ugh," Stafford groaned, "Who could THAT possibly be?"  
"Yer the Captain," Yanick pointed out, "Maybe we've found a new star system, or we've been attacked, or maybe they ran out of toilet paper in the bridge restroom again…"  
"OK," Stafford replied, getting up, "One, we're in the middle of explored space. Two, if we'd been attacked, the bridge would have commed me. And three, we agreed that we'd never bring that incident up again!"  
He thumbed the wall, panel, revealing Steven standing there with a tray of drinks.  
"Evening all!" he announced pleasantly as he walked in, "I've got a strawberry milkshake for Ensign Yanick, purified spring water for the good Doctor, a Long Island iced tea for the Captain-"  
"Steven," Stafford stated flatly, "What are you doing? We didn't order anything!"  
"Well," Steven said, setting Yanick's milkshake by her side, "We all know that Guinanco can't mix drinks to save their lives, so I thought I'd-"  
"Awww!" Yanick gushed, "Thanks!"  
"Look, Steve," Stafford was getting exasperated, "we've been through this. Guiananco isn't replacing you! Just keep doing things the way you've always done them!"  
"I just want to provide you with excellent customer ser-" Steven tried to explain  
"Thanks," Stafford said, "now, if you don't mind, we're trying to eat!"  
"OK," Steven turned back to the door, "But we've got some great specials going on tonight-"  
"Uh huh, yeah." Stafford ushered him out.  
"Hold on," Jeffery called, "We still want the drinks!"  
"FINE!" Stafford snapped, taking the tray from Steven and thumbing the 'door close' panel, "God, here I though Luke would be the worst fuss of the night!"  
/'Worst fuss', hmmm?/ Stalart thought to himself, /Well, TAKE THAT!/  
The baby-like alien pushed his baby food off his high-chair, knocking it to the floor and splattering baby-food all over the carpet.  
"Luke!" Wowryk exclaimed, "What are you doing? Ugh, now I have to clean that up!"  
"Doctor, please," Stafford gave a slightly evil grin as he returned to his seat, "I'll handle it,"  
Wowryk looked skeptically at him, halfway out of her seat.  
"You will?" she asked.  
"Yup," Stafford nodded, then proceeded to press the button that would summon the Guinanco waiter back.  
"You are SOO evil!" Yanick giggled, "I love it!"  
Wowryk frowned, but took her seat.  
"Y'know, Chris," Jeffery said, digging into his mutton chops, "Ah really gotta admit that having Guinanco here really isn't that bad," he popped a piece of chop in his mouth and continued talking, "this stuff is better then the stuff our replicators put out,"  
"Jeffery, please," Wowryk reprimanded, "Chew with your mouth closed,"  
"Yes, dear," Jeffery replied, still chewing.  
Wowryk cleared her throat.  
Jeffery swallowed, then grinned sheepishly.  
"Sorry,"  
"So where's T'Parief?" Wowryk asked Yanick, "I was hoping to have a word with him this evening?"  
"Oh," Yanick sipped her beer, "he's running the Beta security team through a drill. I guess he's worried that the Hazardous Team is tying up all the training resources,"  
"Good thinking," Stafford nodded to himself.  
"From T'Parief?" Yanick smiled, "Always. He's a pretty smart guy!"

"Fire! Fire!" T'Parief screamed, rolling around on the ground and trying to smother the mostly-harmless (but slightly painful) holographic flames that covered his body.  
"Here!" Ensign P'meth shouted, throwing a heavy blanket over the fallen officer and working to smother the flames.  
After he extinguished the flames and regained his footing, T'Parief glared at each of the members of Beta team in turn.  
"What did I tell you regarding flamethrowers?" he asked coldly.  
"Um," one pale crewman shakily raised his hand, "Only use them when you're in the lead point of your attack formation,"  
"Correct," T'Parief growled, "And what did you all do?"  
"We used them when were weren't the lead point of the attack formation," the crewman continued nervously,"  
"We already have a Hazardous Team," T'Parief said coldly, his voice rising from a grown to a roar, "Perhaps I should suggest that we nickname this squad 'The Flaming Queens'?!"  
"Please, no," murmured Ensign Bith.  
"THEN I SUGGEST YOU SHAPE UP!" T'Parief snarled, storming out of the holodeck.

Shortly after dinner, Stafford had scheduled a practice session for most of Silverado's officers in the main shuttlebay. As the last few stragglers crowded in, Stafford, Noonan and T'Parief stood on a small stand to address the group. Noonan's features still had a faint tracing of scar tissue from an accident suffered a few months ago, but the marks were vanishing at a speed that impressed even Dr. Wowryk.  
"You'll probably all wondering," Stafford began, "Why I ordered you all here during your off-duty hours-"  
"Wondering, yeah," somebody grumbled.  
"Silence!" T'Parief snapped.  
"Um," Stafford said, glancing at his security chief, "Right. Thank you. Anyway, as you're no doubt aware, Admiral Tunney will be arriving tomorrow in regards to the dead body sitting in the morgue and to conduct a brief inspection of the ship," he turned to Noonan and nodded.  
"As you know," Noonan began calmly, "protocol requires a certain amount of ceremony when an Admiral makes a formal inspection. Mr. T'Parief will therefore be leading you through a review of the parade drill required. Mr. T'Parief," Noonan stepped back.  
"Form up," T'Parief stated, the command indicating that the officers should fall into rank and prepare for drill (marching) maneuvers.  
There was some grumbling from the ranks. Parade drill wasn't exactly common in Starfleet, but it was taught at the Academy. Drill wasn't very difficult, once you got the hang of the different movements and commands. Most crews could be called upon to go through an Admiral's parade inspection at a moments notice. Stafford and Noonan however, felt that it was better to give their people some practice first.  
"FORM UP!" T'Parief snarled again. Stafford and even Noonan jumped a little from the ferocity of the security chief's growl.  
"Is it me," Stafford whispered, "Or has he been a little cranky lately?"  
"Can you blame him?" Noonan replied, "He just found out that there are other beings just like him. And he can't exactly get an explanation on that from a corpse,"  
"True enough," Stafford agreed.  
T'Parief was something of an anomaly, having been the product of a Gorn father and a half Klingon, half Andorian mother. It had taken the geneticists years to figure out how to help them procreate, and T'Parief was the result. He had two brothers, but while T'Parief took largely after their father in terms of looks, his brothers took after their mother. He'd been thought to have been unique, the only one of his kind in existance.  
All that had changed after Silverado had been attacked by a group of starfighters piloted by beings identical to T'Parief.  
The officers had finally formed up into ranks and stood at attention as T'Parief, Stafford and Noonan moved down the ranks, correcting their stances.  
"Arms straight down your sides," Stafford admonished Lieutenant Quintane, "And make sure you get a haircut tonight,"  
"Starfleet protocol requires that non-regulation jewelry be removed," Noonan reminded Ensign Pysternzyks, "Remove it,"  
"I challenge you to combat!" the Andorian said smartly, "To the death!"  
Noonan smiled.  
"I think not. This is Starfleet, not the Andorian Space Force," Noonan's eyes bored into Pysternzyks, "Now remove the earring,"  
"I will remove the earring," Pysternzyks muttered tonelessly.  
Once everybody was reasonably presentable, T'Parief resumed his command position and prepared to try some simple drill moves.  
Standing behind the group of officers, Stafford braced himself.  
"Squad!" T'Parief called out in military sing-song, "Right, turn!"  
Stafford sighed as no fewer than 4 officers turned to the left.  
"Fix yourselves," T'Parief growled.  
There was some shuffling as the offending persons corrected their positioning.  
"Forward," T'Parief called,  
"I can't watch," Stafford whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.  
"MARCH!"

It was nearly midnight before T'Parief returned to his quarters, his throat raw from screaming. It had taken several hours to whip the ship's officers into shape, but he could at least rest satisfied that they would perform acceptably for the admiral. His first marching command had been disastrous; everybody was out of sync, stepping on each other's feet, banging arms into each other and generally looking like crap. It hadn't helped that T'Parief had been so intent on correcting their marching that he wasn't paying much attention to WHERE they were marching and managed to march them right into a repair bay, disrupting a shuttle warp core calibration and shorting out valuable diagnostic equipment.  
Undressing and stepping into his sonic shower, T'Parief was briefly faced with his reflection in the mirror. Swallowing, he looked away. His body. His one of a kind body. He'd been thrilled to get it back from Lt. Jall, and rightly so. But to find out that not only were there others with the same form as he, they had for some reason decided to attack and attempt to destroy Silverado was something that weighted heavily on his mind. They had attempted actions that ran in direct opposition to his job as security chief. Stafford, Fifebee and Wowryk were carefully avoiding any mention of the fact and had refused to speculate as to the source of the attackers, but T'Parief knew there could be only one source.  
His father. And K'Eleese.  
Stepping out of the shower and moving to his bedroom, his gaze caught on his custom bed; double wide, with a slot in one half that allowed him to sleep on his back without crushing his tail. Standard Gorn bedding actually, although T'Parief preferred a somewhat softer mattress than the leather and iron framework used by the Gorn. He definitely didn't like the Klingon version; a flat, hard shelf. His brothers preferred that type of bedding.  
He never did understand why his younger brothers were so different from him. They had the same parents, and presumably the same doctors had worked together to bring them to term. But while he was more reptilian and far more intelligent, they were mammals and pretty stupid ones at that.  
But why were they different? It just made no sense to him. If you had a Klingon and a Human parent, you didn't have one human child and one Klingon child, you had two hybrid children.  
What the hell?  
He remembered asking his father that same question as a child. His father had merely sampled the air with his tongue and informed T'Parief that such things were not of his concern. Of course, the language had been somewhat harsher, leading the young hybrid to simply shut up and not ask.  
Of course, now his father was gone.  
He considered calling his mother and asking her, but he knew that he could not reveal information regarding their find until it was declassified by Starfleet.  
He could ask without revealing that though….  
He walked over to his comm unit and punched in his mother's code. After a moment, the Klingon/Andorian woman appeared on the screen.  
"Hello?" she smiled when she saw him, "Pari! What a surprise! I'm so pleased to hear from you!"  
"Mother," T'Parief said softly, ignoring her use of the irritating nickname, "How are you?"  
"Quite well, thank you," she replied, "Sufficient time has passed that I now have full control of your father's assets and I have begun dating the most charming Lemnorian!"  
"I am pleased you are well," T'Parief said.  
"Can the formality, Pari," Klexish growled, "what's wrong?"  
"Wrong?"  
"Since you were a kid, I could always tell when you were upset. The 6 foot pole would get buried even deeper up your-"  
"I need to know something about our family," T'Parief interrupted. He paused, then swallowed, "Why are my brothers and I so different?"  
Klexish was silent.  
"T'Parief," she said finally, "You must understand that Gorn, Andorians and Klingons are all very proud species. When I was to become pregnant, we had to decide if our children would be mammals, or reptiles. To satisfy Klingon, Andorian and Gorn honor, we decided we would have both. You were are our reptile, your brothers the mammals,"  
T'Parief nodded. So far, so good. A reasonable, innocent answer.  
"At least," Klexish sighed, "That's what I thought,"  
Crap.  
"What do you mean?"  
"I've been thinking a lot about those days, since your father left with the files the geneticists put together," she admitted, "And there are a few things that don't make sense. Changes made to your brothers that didn't seem to have any real explanation, genetic modifications that didn't seem necessary,"  
"Genetic engineering is illegal in the Federation," T'Parief mused.  
"Not when used for cross-species procreation," Klexish pointed out.  
"I see," T'Parief was silent, "Is there anything else you can remember?"  
"No, Pari," his mother looked worried, "Is something wrong? What's happening."  
"I cannot discuss it, mother," T'Parief replied, "I must go. Please contact me if you remember anything else,"  
"Understood," Klexish nodded, then smiled, "Good night, my child,"  
"Good night, mother,"

Stafford was seating in his command chair the next morning, pouring over a padd as his senior staff went about their duties. Yanick was holding the ship near Starbase 45 while Fifebee took advantage of the Starbase's proximity to update several of her scientific databases. Jall, looking somewhat bored, was downloading updates for the computer core software.  
Noonan, having returned from a brief inspection of the science labs, stopped near the large schematic of Silverado that dominated the rear of the bridge.  
"Captain," he said, frowning, "could you please come here for a moment?"  
"Huh?" Stafford looked up from his padd and looked around the bridge before his gaze settled on Noonan, "Oh, sure,"  
He joined his First Officer by the schematic.  
"What's the problem," he asked.  
"I'm not sure," Noonan replied, "Something seems wrong with this status readout, but I'm not sure what it is…"  
Stafford gazed at the schematic view of his ship. The display showed above and side cross-sections of the ship. Adjacent displays could be zoomed in to examine particular systems, sections or components.  
Stafford couldn't put his finger on it, but something was definitely wrong.

"Stafford to Engineering,"  
"Jeffery here," Jeffery tapped his comm-badge as Frat and Frek Naketh, two of his engineering officers stared at the Master Systems console in Main Engineering, scratching their heads.  
"Simon," Stafford said, "We're having a bit of a problem up here. We're looking at the ship status display, and something's not right,"  
"Aye," Jeffery nodded, "Tell, me, Chris old buddy, do ye see any red indicator icons on the ship readout?"  
"Ummmm….no," Stafford replied.  
"Any error messages?"  
"Nope,"  
"Flashing red lights?"  
"Er, no,"  
"Aye, we see the same down here," Jeffery nodded, even though Stafford couldn't see him.  
"So why did you ask me all that?" Stafford wanted to know.  
"Because ye still haven't clued in on one very simple, yet long awaited fact:" Jeffery paused dramatically, "Everything is working properly!"

Up on the bridge Stafford looked to Noonan, then over to Jall.  
"Jall?" he asked, "Did you about this?"  
"About what?' Jall asked.  
"Everything is working!"  
"Yeah, so?"  
"It's just that, well," Stafford grinned, "This is a first for Silverado! No wonder this status readout looked so wrong, there isn't a single error or red light on it!"  
"I thought," Fifebee cut in, "That Mr. Jeffery had estimated that it would take considerably longer to fully iron out the problems we've been having, integrating new systems with the older hardware already on board,"  
"He did," Jall cut in, "He just didn't count on having so much help,"  
"Help?"  
"The refit at Deneria helped," Jall said, "They repaired or replaced everything that was that was damaged. But our biggest problem has always been integrating old and new equipment, and in that case…"

Singing softly to herself in the ship's cyberspace, the sentient computer personality that went by the name of Sylvia was having a calm, uneventful day. She occupied the section of the computer data core that was normally occupied by the computer's personality profile and verbal user interface. The majority of her time was spent dealing directly with the crew, fielding replicator requests, information queries, systems commands and even general chit-chat to the appropriate sections of the computer core. When she tired of that, she could draw back and allow the computer AI, a veritable moron compared to her, take over the regular drudgery of day-to-day computing while she perused more entertaining activities. At the moment, she was processing crew requests while performing security and auto-nanny sensor sweeps of the Rengs' cabin, the educational section and any other part of the ship where children were present. She was also swapping recipes with the replicator control system on Starbase 45 and assisting Frit Naketh with routine ship maintenance."  
"Sylvia?"  
"Yes, Chris?" Sylvia answered immediately, her voice-pattern analysis systems identifying the Captain and his location, allowing her to project the face she had chosen onto the nearest display panel, "What can I do for you?"  
"I was hoping we could have a little face-to-face chat. Could you meet me in Holodeck 1 please?"  
"Of course, Captain,"  
Sylvia immediately accessed the holodeck control protocols and loaded the holographic program she had created for herself. Technically, she could project herself as a hologram anywhere in the ship, using the same projection systems used by Lieutenant Fifebee. She generally avoided doing so, as she found confining her awareness to one location to be extremely limiting, much like closing one eye and tying your arms behind your back.  
Taking one last nanosecond to add Wowryk's adopted child, Luke, to the auto-nanny high-priority list (the little guy was always getting into trouble!) Sylvia transferred her awareness to the holodeck.

"SURPRISE!"  
Sylvia looked around in shock, mentally kicking herself for not scanning the holodeck for occupants first, disregarding the thought as her holographic eyes took in the scene in the holodeck.  
She was standing in a reproduction of Stafford's childhood home, a program she had used frequently when interacting with crewmembers on the holodeck. Surrounding her was Stafford, Jeffery, Noonan, Fifebee, Jall and Lieutenant Sage from the engineering night shift.  
"What's going on?" Sylvia asked, smiling in spite of herself.  
"Since this is Silverado's first day without any unexpected systems errors, glitches or crashes, we thought we should mark the occasion!" Jeffery explained.  
"And," Stafford added, "since Mr. Jeffery and Mr. Jall here both agree that they never would have reached this point so quickly without your help, we just wanted to say 'thank you'!"  
"Oh you guys!" Sylvia blushed, turning deep red, "You didn't have to do anything! It's my job! It's what I'm here for!"  
"Not to mention expanding our replicator recipe database by 50 %," Jall added.  
"Taking care of Captain Baird for us back at Deneria," Stafford added.  
"And sparing us from having to listen to 'Command unclear, please repeat' 50 times every day," Sage, the night shift engineer, jumped in.  
"We know this isn't really your thing," Stafford said, "But we wanted to do something nice. So here it is…  
Dr. Wowryk walked into the dining room carrying a large while cake, an image of Silverado having been drawn in icing, the words 'Glitch free for 1 day!' scrawled in bright neon blue icing.  
Despite not having taste buds, or a stomach, Sylvia happily accepted the first piece.

"Well," Dr. Wowryk commented as she and Stafford left the holodeck, "That was quite the morale booster,"  
Stafford shrugged.  
"If you say so, Doctor,"  
"I do," Wowryk pushed on with a smile, "I think it was a wonderful thing to do. Sylvia's had a bit of a rocky start with us, and it's important to remember that she has feelings and needs too,"  
"Wow," Stafford muttered, "Today is just a day of surprises. The ship is working properly, we have an Admiral dropping by and you approve of something I've done,"  
"So everything's perfect?"  
Stafford snorted.  
"Hardly," he growled, "We've got a dead body in the morgue and our sharp-toothed security chief is in a very bad mood,"  
"Bridge to Captain Stafford,"  
"Stafford here," Stafford tapped his comm-badge.  
"Sir, the Admiral's ship is arriving," reported the duty officer.  
"On my way,"

"Well," Noonan smiled wide as Stafford and Wowryk exited the rear turbolift onto the bridge. Jall and Fifebee were emerging from the forward turbolift.  
"You look happy," Stafford commented, stepping down from the rear of the bridge and settling into his command chair, "What's up?"  
Noonan tapped at the small panel inset into his armrest. A ship appeared on the main viewscreen.  
"Is that…" Stafford squinted, "No way!"  
Starlight glinted off her hull as the USS Stallion eased into the system.  
"Hey," Wowryk frowned, "Isn't that the ship were we found those stranded hillbillies?"  
"It sure is," Noonan smiled, "The only Constitution-class ship in active service,"  
"And the second ship to be added to Operation Salvage" Stafford shook his head, "What do you know? I had no idea they'd finished refitting her,"  
"It's been well over a year since we delivered her to the refit dock," Noonan reminded him, "I suspect that she's been on active duty for quite some time,"  
"She looks pretty," Yanick commented from the helm.  
The U.S.S. Stallion was looking much better then she had when the Silverado had hauled her out of the Rigel VI Salvage Depot and delivered her to Earth for refitting. Her nacelles were the perfect contrast of bright hull plates, with the deep grey of 23rd century style warp grills accenting each side. Her navigational deflector assembly had been retrofitted with additional sensor systems being added to the concave dish and the paired spheres of 23rd century phaser emitters had been replaced with the phaser strips used in the 24th century.  
"We're being hailed," Jall reported, "Should I tell them to buzz off?"  
"No," Stafford snapped, "put them on screen,"  
Admiral Tunney appeared on the screen, next to a young woman with Captain's pips that Stafford didn't recognize.  
"Admiral Tunney," Stafford nodded, "Welcome to, er," Stafford realized he really couldn't welcome the Admiral anywhere specific and shrugged, "um, here,"  
"Yeah, thanks for that," Tunney nodded back, "Between you and me, the more light years between me and my wife, the better,"  
"Uh, of course," Stafford fumbled for words while Jall muttered something that sounded like 'TMI', "If you'd care to beam aboard, we can begin the inspection,"  
"Right, about that," Tunney looked nervous, "If you don't mind, I'd rather take a shuttle,"  
"Admiral," Noonan said, bringing himself to his feet, "I assure you that our transporters-"  
"I'm not worried about you," Tunney interrupted, "Let's just say that the Stallion's transporter had a little accident with my luggage!"  
The Stallion's captain swallowed.  
"We'll ready the shuttlebay," Stafford said, holding back his chuckles until the Admiral was off the screen.

T'Parief watched quietly from the shuttlebay control booth as the Admiral's shuttle landed gently on the deck. A pair of crewmen quickly dropped a short flight of stairs alongside the shuttle. Tunney emerged, followed by two officers wearing the blue of Sciences & Medical.  
He watched as Stafford called the attending Silverado officers to attention and turned to address the Admiral. After a brief talk, Stafford led Tunney up and down the ranks on a brief inspection. T'Parief could see that Tunney was surprised about something. Clearly, T'Parief thought to himself, the man had been paying too much attention to rumors without bothering to actually investigate the capabilities of Silverado and her crew.  
Finally, Stafford dismissed everybody and departed with Tunney. T'Parief turned and headed back to his office.

"I'll admit," Tunney said as he and Stafford walked through Silverado on Tunney's inspection, Tunney's assistants remaining in the shuttlebay, "I'm impressed. The ship is in good shape, and the crew looks fairly disciplined. What's the catch?"  
Stafford smiled.  
"If you drop by Unbalanced Equations later, you'll change your mind," Stafford chuckled, "They're a good crew, but they can be damned rowdy when they want to be!"  
"Sounds like my kids," Tunney snorted.  
"Admiral," Stafford said carefully, "Excuse me if I'm being rude, but what's the deal? This is the first time you've stepped foot on this ship since I was added to your flag, and it took a dead body resembling our security chief to get you out here," he paused, looking for any negative signs from Tunney.  
"Keep going," Tunney encouraged him.  
"But you haven't even asked to examine the corpse yet," Stafford continued, "the first thing you asked to do was inspect the ship. You've chatted with nearly a dozen crewmen, tripped over one of the many Ensign Nakeths we've got running around Engineering and even found time to meet that awful little critter of Wowryk's-"  
"Yes, the alien baby you found near Tantulus," Tunney shrugged, "I wonder if somebody will come looking for him someday?"  
"Who knows?" Stafford shrugged, "I know Jeffery sure hopes so. But what's the deal?"  
"Perhaps now would be a good time to inspect a more private location?" Tunney suggested.  
Stafford nodded, then turned to lead the Admiral towards the bridge and his ready room.

BE-DEEP!  
Grunting, T'Parief seriously considered either not answering the door to the security office or simply shouting for somebody else to get it. But he was the officer on duty, taking his turn at the desk while he scanned through the security updates from Starfleet, and it was his job.  
Why the hell was somebody ringing the chime anyway? The door wasn't locked! This was an office, not the weapons locker for crying out loud!  
Tapping the button on his console to open the door, T'Parief looked up to see Dr. Noel Wowryk walking in, a hypospray in one hand.  
"Mr. T'Parief," she said coolly, "I have been trying to speak to you for the past 3 days. Why have you been ignoring my requests for a meeting?"  
"Because," he growled, "the only possible thing you could want to discuss with me would be the body in Sickbay. I do not wish to discuss it."  
"Right," Wowryk crossed her arms, "and it never occurred to you that I might want to help you plan a surprise for Trish's birthday next month?"  
"Her birthday is next month?" T'Parief's brow ridge rose in surprise.  
"No," Wowryk shrugged, "I actually need to talk to you about your, um, problem."  
"My problem?"  
"How did Trish put it?" Wowryk thought to herself, "Ah yes, 'deer in headlights'?"  
T'Parief quickly looked around; making sure that none of his staff heard that remark.  
"My office," he hissed, leading her further into the Security department.  
Wowryk settled into the chair across from T'Parief desk, looking around at the blank walls of his cramped, windowless office.  
"Cozy," she commented.  
"You wish to discuss my…problem?" T'Parief prodded.  
It was an unfortunate truth, one that he didn't like to admit, but quite simply, T'Parief was incapable of mating.  
He hadn't even realized the problem until he started dating Ensign Yanick. But the first time they tried to…consummate their relationship, the 'problem' raised its ugly head. They could kiss, they could hug, but as soon as T'Parief reached a certain stage, his brain simply shut down. He froze up like a deer in the middle of the road, incapable of anything aside from breathing for several minutes. Wowryk had grudgingly agreed to look at the problem, but had had little luck. So far.  
"I suspected that the problem had a psychological component," she started, "As you recall, Jall was quite capable of sinful acts when he was in your body. Likewise, when we were under the influence of the damaged Matrian SID, your altered personality committed evil carnal acts with the hologram of Jadzia Dax,"  
"Please don't remind me," T'Parief sighed, "and definitely don't remind Trish,"  
"What I couldn't understand," Wowryk went on, "Was the complete shutdown. I ran full scans on you in that state, and it was clearly a physical reaction,"  
She cleared her throat.  
"I suppose," she said, "That with my therapy progressing, I am able to look at your problem in a more…objective light. Anyway, here," she handed him the hypo.  
"What's this?" he asked.  
"The cure," she said, "sort of. When I was examining the body, I found that a gland present in your body was absent from the corpse. I went back to my scans of you, and found that you have some kind of reaction that activates that gland when you get…um, that is, when you….ugh," Wowryk shook her head, "Sickening,"  
"I get the idea, Doctor," T'Parief nodded, "When matters between Trish and I escalate, the gland is activated?"  
"Right," Wowryk nodded, "And it dumps some kind of sedative into your system. With Jall's brainwaves running around your head, the gland never activated. Something in the Matrian SID prevented it from kicking as well. It probably has something to do with your unique brainwave patterns, since the gland is very close to your cerebral cortex,"  
"I see," T'Parief contemplated the ramifications of this, "why not simply remove the gland from myself?"  
Wowryk shrugged.  
"I don't understand its purpose well enough to advise that," she said, "For all I know, the absence of that gland is what caused, er…"  
"Caused my counterparts to become murderous beasts?" T'Parief suggested.  
Wowryk coloured.  
"That drug will prevent the gland from releasing the sedative," she said, nodding at the hypospray, "You should be able to a perfectly sinful, um, normal sex life,"  
T'Parief looked at her for several seconds.  
"And you're giving it to me?" he finally asked.  
"Yes," Wowryk nodded.  
"Knowing I may use it to copulate with your best friend?"  
Wowryk's gaze froze.  
"Commander," she said cooly, "My duty on this ship is to look after the medical welfare of this crew. Regardless of my personal beliefs, I am bound to aid those who require it,"  
"Like Rengs Meris?" T'Parief asked, referring to a woman whose baby Wowryk had refused to deliver due to religious clashes.  
"I supervised," Wowryk snapped, "Nurse Kerry is fully competent, and managed the birth perfectly. I would have stepped in if anything had happened!"  
"My apologies, Doctor," T'Parief said softly, "I greatly appreciate your efforts,"  
Wowryk softened.  
"I suppose," she said, "that Yvonnokoff has been doing me some good after all. If I can't give Jeffery a normal relationship, at least I can help you and Trish have one,"  
She stood.  
"Don't hesitate to come by Sickbay if you have further questions," she said, suddenly all business.  
"Thank you," T'Parief nodded as Wowryk left.  
"Well," T'Parief commented, staring at the hypo and analyzing what Wowryk had told him, "this complicates things somewhat."

"Well then" Stafford said, once he and Tunney were seated in his ready room, a pitcher of fruit juice sitting on the desk, "what's the deal?"  
Tunney gave him a look.  
"Uh, sir," Stafford added meekly.  
"First, your mission," Tunney said, "We've done our best to track the origins of the raiders that attacked you,"  
"The T'Parief look-alikes," Stafford nodded,  
"Right," Tunney agreed, "I read his report, and he suggests that K'Eleese and his father are responsible,"  
"Good luck finding them," Stafford shrugged, "From what I understand, Lieutenant Porter from Waystation managed to trick her into running off to some parallel universe!"  
"Right," Tunney said, "We found an unauthorized tap into Starfleet records, specifically, a query into Silverado's location about 3 days before the attack. We traced it back to the Birtal system. There are no inhabited planets, but long-range sensors show signs of a spatial disturbance. It's your job to investigate. Find out where those raiders came from. If possible, apprehend K'Eleese, if she is in fact responsible.  
"And what if another universe is involved?" Stafford asked, suddenly very worried.  
Tunney gulped.  
"Use," his voice was strained, "Your best judgment,"  
Stafford blinked.  
"Well," he finally said, "Considering the way Starfleet's treated us over the past two years, I never thought I'd hear those words from a Fleet Admiral!"  
Tunney was silent for a moment.  
"What have you heard about Operation Salvage in the past few months?" he asked.  
Stafford shrugged.  
"I've heard that they've been turning out about a ship every month or two," he said, "which is a hell of a lot faster than any shipyard could manage," he shrugged again, "that's about it,"  
"Have you also heard," Tunney asked, "that all Operation Salvage ships have been placed under my flag?"  
"No," Stafford admitted, "I kinda thought they were being spread out through the whole fleet,"  
"I wish," Tunney grunted, then stood to pace.  
"Captain," he said, "when you were first assigned to me, yours was the oldest ship and least experienced crew under my command. You've probably noticed a bit of a change in your assignments lately,"  
"We're been pulled off the long-range exploratory stuff," Stafford said cautiously, "and we've been spending more time on missions inside Federation space,"  
"Exactly," Tunney said. He was quiet for a moment, "What do you think of the U.S.S. Stallion?'  
Stafford shrugged yet again.  
"She looks OK from the outside," he said.  
"Right," Tunney said, "So do the Nederland, the Neches, and the Beaumont. All the Operation Salvage ships. But on the inside, none of them have made even half the progress you people have!"  
"Yay us," Stafford said cautiously.  
"We have over a dozen ships now that look well and good," Tunney said, a very worried look on his face, "but they are not up to fleet standard! That's why Silverado is running normal starship duty now, while they're being kept as far out of sight as we can manage!"  
"But what does this have to do with us?" Stafford asked.  
"Your ship has made the most progress in reaching normal operation," Tunney said, "The organizers of Operation Salvage didn't realize just how difficult restoring an old starship could be. But somehow, you've managed better than any of those other crews. Based on the reports we've been getting, my analysts believe they've located the source behind your success,"  
"Right," Stafford said, frowning. He didn't like where this was going.  
"Sylvia," Tunney called, "Would you join us, please?"  
There was a shower of holographic sparks, and Sylvia materialized, wearing a Starfleet dress uniform.  
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Admiral," she said politely.  
"Likewise," Tunney nodded.  
"Now look, Admiral Tunney," Stafford was sweating, "I know Sylvia isn't exactly Starfleet regulation spec, but-"  
"Relax, Captain," Tunney cut in, "I know you've tried to keep her presence quiet, but you'll find that a sentient computer isn't that easy to hide. Especially when she aggravates a senior Captain in command of a major drydock!" he turned to regard Sylvia again, who was watching quietly, "But it also doesn't take much reading between the lines to realize what a benefit she's been to you,"  
"Thank you," Sylvia smiled, "it's nice to be appreciated!"  
"That's why I want to offer you a job," Tunney continued.  
"What?" Sylvia was taken aback.  
Stafford's jaw dropped.  
"I'd like you to come with me to the Daystom institute," Tunney continued, "Let the scientists take a look at you. Maybe see if we can figure out how to duplicate the circumstances that led to your creation. Once that's done, you'd go from ship to ship, helping Operation Salvage get the rest of our ships up to the same level as Silverado,"  
"You can't throw her in a lab!" Stafford was aghast, "She's…she's…"  
"A sentient life-form," Tunney nodded, "Believe me, the last thing we need is another court-battle on AI rights. The whole holographic rights thing is crazy enough as it is! No," he continued when Sylvia's expression started to darken, "Sylvia is fully recognized as a sentient being, which is why I am offering her this position rather than ordering her into it,"  
"I see," Stafford said quietly.  
"Admiral," Sylvia smiled sweetly, "I certainly appreciate your frankness. I would like some time to consider your proposal.  
"Of course," Tunney smiled, standing to leave, "Captain, as much as it surprises me to say this, it's been a pleasure. I believe you have a mission to prepare for,"  
Tunney walked out.  
Stafford stared at Sylvia for a moment.  
"You're not seriously considering going with him, are you?" he asked.  
Sylvia shrugged.

Fifebee was in Sickbay, running another scan on the alien corpse when Wowryk returned.  
"Was he pleased?" Fifebee asked without looking up.  
"As pleased as he ever gets," Wowryk shrugged, "I can't believe I just gave it to him!"  
"You have come a long way, Doctor," Fifebee said, tapping at the panel, "your relationship with your crewmates has improved greatly since you first came aboard,"  
"Thanks," Wowryk said dryly, "Have you started the quantum phase analysis the Captain asked for yet?"  
"I am preparing the scan now," Fifebee said, "I am awaiting Lieutenant Jall's assistance in configuring the sensor system.  
"I suppose I may as well make myself comfortable," Wowryk sighed, sitting at a nearby workstation, "he's never on time-"  
"Try it now," Jall said, getting up from behind an open panel.  
"Never mind," Wowryk muttered.

Captain's Log, Stardate 58028.3  
"We've set course to the Birtal system, as per Admiral Tunney's orders. Dr. Wowryk and Lieutenant Fifebee have completed their analysis of the alien body, again as per Tunney's orderes,"  
"I've tried to postpone this as long as possible, to try to give Mr. T'Parief time to come to terms with what's happened, but with the ship now on a mission to track down whoever's responsible for this, we need to face some ugly truths,"

Wowryk and Fifebee stood near the conference lounge display screen, a bio-readout of the dead alien on display.  
"The alien has approximately the same anatomy as Mr. T'Parief," Wowryk said, eyes flicking to where the security chief sat, silent and expressionless, "with a few minor differences, "she swallowed, "First, a gland near the base of the brain has been removed. The purpose of this gland is largely unknown, but it does control certain, um, bodily functions-"  
"The good Doctor is attempting to spare my feelings," T'Parief said coldly, "The gland in questions prevents me from mating,"  
Wowryk coloured.  
"Er, yes," she said, swallowing.  
"So, your big, powerful and impotent-" Jall started.  
"Jall," Noonan's voice was quiet but firm, "Not now,"  
"Right," Jall replied, instantly.  
"Anyway," Wowryk went on, "the other major difference is that the brain itself has been altered, possibly at the genetic level. Judging from the changes, I would say that this being was slightly less intelligent than Mr. T'Parief. In addition, parts of the brain controlling loyalty and obedience have been stimulated,"  
"They've been dumbed down?" Stafford frowned, "What's the point in that?"  
"Not everybody thinks that a smart soldier is a good soldier," Noonan said, "Some prefer blind obedience to creative thinking,"  
"Tunney insisted that we run a quantum phasic scan," Stafford said, bringing the briefing back on track, "What did that tell us?"  
Jall took over.  
"An objects quantum signature can be used to determine whether or not an object originated in a different universe," he said, "T'Parief over here insists that K'Eleese and his father, uh Sexar?"  
"Slezar," T'Parief corrected.  
"Whatever. Those two are the most likely to have information on where things like T'Parief could be found," Jall shrugged, "Last I knew, they were off to another universe. It makes sense that Tunney wants to know if these guys are from here, or there."  
"Fifebee?" Stafford asked.  
"We have determined that the alien is indeed from another universe," Fifebee said, "We've also determined that he is about 4 weeks old and has been subject to a growth acceleration process of some kind,"  
"So," Ensign Yanick frowned, "T'Parief is from another universe?"  
Wowryk and Fifebee exchanged glances.  
"Mr. T'Parief was born and raised on Nisus," Wowryk said gently, "This alien, on the other hand, was-"  
"Cloned," T'Parief grunted. He took a deep breath.  
"I knew," he continued, "As soon as we found the body, I knew. My father is using the research from my birth to raise an army. He has obviously found the technology to incubate, indoctrinate and accelerate the growth of these beings,"  
"An army of T'Pariefs," Stafford mused, "No offense, but that sounds extremely dangerous,"  
"I agree," Noonan said, "Lieutenant Commander, your services to this ship are beyond reproach. However, an army of beings combining the strength and combat abilities of Klingons, Andorians and the Gorn would not be healthy to the stability of the quadrant,"  
"Which is why we're chasing down K'Eleese and Slezar," Stafford said, "We'll be at the Birtal system in 36 hours. Once there, we'll need to try to follow the trail of these creatures, um, beings," he amended, with a glance at T'Parief, "back to its source. Dismissed,"  
Most of the officers filed out, Stafford motioning for Fifebee and Wowryk to remain.  
"Why," Stafford said slowly, "am I getting this feeling that there's something you're not sharing?"  
"Captain," Fifebee started, "While we certainly have some suspicions, we have nothing concrete. We have no evidence on which to base a solid theory,"  
"If this is something that could impact my ship and crew-" Stafford started.  
"Doctor-patient confidentiality," Wowryk reminded him.  
"The patient is dead!" Stafford said firmly, "I know you're trying to protect T'Parief, and that's really good of you. But if there's anything you know that can help us learn more about these lizard-things and where they came from-"  
"We've finished analyzing the Project Triad files," Fifebee said without preamble, "the documents relating to T'Parief's conception,"  
"Took you long enough," Stafford commented, "We've only had them for how many months now?"  
"They contained years of research and experimentation," Wowryk declared indignantly, "I don't think a man who can't even turn on a bio-bed should be commenting on my medical skills!"  
"Sorry, doc," Stafford shrugged, "What did you find?"  
"On the surface, everything is normal," Wowryk said, "Records of DNA donors, in this case Klexish and Slezar. Listings of alterations to DNA and gene sequences, properly documented and justified, results of research into different ways of recombining the two DNA strands-"  
"I thought genetic engineering was prohibited in the Federation," Stafford asked.  
"It is permissible to use genetic engineering to correct genetic disorders, or to help beings of difference races have children," Fifebee explained, "provided that proper authorization and permits have been requested, approved and received,"  
"You said 'on the surface'," Stafford cut back in, "what is wrong?"  
Wowryk and Fifebee were silent for a moment.  
"We're not sure how to explain this," Fifebee admitted.  
"Be blunt," Stafford advised.  
"I don't think mere reproduction was the final goal of Project Triad," Wowryk said slowly, "there are items and anomalies that suggest that Slezar may have had another goal. What that goal was, we can only guess,"  
Stafford was quiet for a moment.  
"He's using it to create an army now," Stafford said, "Could that have been his goal all along?"  
"Maybe," Wowryk said, "but then why only create one? And what about T'Parief's brothers? They're nothing like him!"  
Stafford was quiet again.  
"Have you mentioned this to T'Parief?" he asked finally.  
"Er, no," Fifebee admitted, "But I suspect he knows, or at least suspects, far more than we do,"

T'Parief left the briefing, fully aware that Stafford would be grilling Wowryk and Fifebee for information on Project Triad. On the one hand, the information and project had been created with the explicit purpose of creating him. The fact that it was now being laid out for all to see was somewhat vexing. OK, let's be honest here, it was really f**king annoying.  
So why wasn't he more upset? T'Parief wondered to himself as he rode the turbolift down to his quarters. He was angry, that much was sure. But not as much as he would have expected. Was it because he hoped they could find the truth that was eluding him? Did he actually trust these people enough that he was comfortable with them analyzing his anatomy at the molecular level?  
Maybe. Except for Jall.  
More likely, he decided, he just really didn't care what the rest of the crew knew. Sure, the whole Project Triad thing had been his business, but with a squadron of his 'race' trying to blow up the ship, any rights to privacy they might have had were clearly being tossed out the nearest airlock. And rightly so, the security specialist in him realized.  
Why didn't he care though? Was there maybe some sequence, some bit of genetic code included that would prevent him from getting too curious about the whole Triad thing?  
Now he was being paranoid.  
The doors to his quarters swished open, driving most thoughts right from his head.  
Ensign Trish Yanick was sprawled over the couch in his quarters, covered only by a shimmering shawl of Thallonian sick.  
"Heya, handsome," she purred.  
"G, g, g…" T'Parief's brain was on the verge of lockdown, getting closer and closer as Yanick climbed from the couch and walked towards him, every curve on her body contributing to the symphony of her motion.  
HSSSSSSSSSS!  
Instantly, his mind cleared.  
And his heart sank.  
"You found Dr. Wowryk's little present," he growled.  
"Guilty as charged," Yanick gave a coy smile as she held up the hypo she had injected him with, "You've been having such a rough time lately, I thought I'd see what I could do to…cheer you up?"  
"How did you know what that hypo would do?"  
"I read the label," Yanick said, pointing, "See? It says 'take one dosage to reduce the effects of catatonia due to sexual excitement'. Right here, under your name, T'P-"  
"I see," T'Parief sighed. Stupid, over-efficient Dr. Wowryk, "Trish, do you, I mean, are we-"  
"We've been going out for over a year," Trish said, placing a hand on his arm, "Don't you think it's time for us to, y'know…"  
T'Parief was silent.  
"I can't," he said softly.  
"Sure you can," Yanick giggled, pointing back at the hypo label, "See? The hypo is good for about 2 hours-"  
"No, I mean, I just," T'Parief growled.  
"It is not you," he said, "And it is not the hypo," he stood, clenching his fists, his claw tips digging into his palms, "My parents, for some reason, decided that I should not be able to mate. And until I learn why, I cannot put you at risk!" He turned to her, "They may have had a good reason for this!"  
"You could call your mom and ask," Trish offered.  
"She," T'Parief said softly, "is not the parent who can answer that question,"  
"Well," Yanick said, gathering her uniform and standing, "I hope you find the answer. When you do, I'll be here for you," she was quiet for a moment, "Do you need a hug?"  
T'Parief smiled slightly.  
"No," he said, "But I could use some time alone,"

"What, and you just LEFT?" Wowryk asked. She and Yanick were seated in the mess hall, now know as 'Le Plateau Argente' since Guinanco had taken over. Most of the crew had just taken to calling it 'Platterhead's'. Partly due to the name and partly due to the huge, round, platter-like hats worn by the Guinanco employees  
"Duh! Of course I just left!" Yanick replied, dumping about 200 calories worth of salad dressing on her low-calorie salad, "He said he wanted some time alone, so I figured I'd come get something to eat!"  
"Oh, sweety," Patsy Horton, the head manager exclaimed, stopping at their table and grabbing a seat, "You didn't!"  
"Um," Wowryk frowned, "Did we invite you to sit down?"  
Horton raised an eyebrow.  
"Part of my job as a Guinanco employee is to offer relationship advise and counseling to our patrons," she said frostily.  
"Again, did we invite you to sit down?"  
"Don't mind her," Yanick explained, "She been a bitch to everybody since her boyfriend went and grew a spine,"  
"Hey, we're talking about YOUR relationship here!" Wowryk snapped, "Not mine!"  
"There is NOTHING wrong with my relationship!" Yanick snapped back.  
"Honey," Horton put in, "When a man says he wants to be left alone it means he wants to talk. He has some deep, burning secret that is just dying to be let out!"  
"Well," Yanick shrugged, "Technically, T'Parief isn't a man," she frowned, "I'm not really sure what he is,"  
"Oh right," Horton nodded, her British accent crisp and clear, "He's the large lizard looking fellow. The one with the fangs?"  
"That's him," Trish nodded.  
"Well," Horton said, "He must be a man. He does have a penis, right?"  
Wowryk's face twitched.  
"I thought you were taking treatments for that whole 'fear of the penis' thing," Yanick asked her. Wowryk promptly twitched again.  
"Yvonnokoff and I are working on it," she growled, turning back to her salmon.  
"Yeah," Yanick turned back to Horton, "He's got one of those. But, y'know, so does Jall and we're not really sure we'd consider HIM a man!"  
"And what were you doing when he said he wanted to be alone?" Patsy asked, leaning forward.  
Yanick blushed.  
"She was trying to seduce him!" Wowryk snapped, drawing the attention of a family at the next table and blushing, "Sinful, degrading…" she muttered several comments before taking another bite.  
"And he wanted to be left alone?" Horton was aghast, "Oh, sweety, you know what this means, don't you? I am SO sorry!"  
"What?" Yanick asked.

"Sooo," Jall said, a somewhat bored expression on his face, "How's, er, the weather?"  
Fifebee raised an eyebrow.  
"Lieutenant," she said, "I sat here as there are no empty tables available, and I did not wish to wait. You needn't assume that you must make conversation with me just because I am sitting across from you,"  
"I was trying to be nice," Jall growled softly, pausing to check out a hot ensign walking by, "Mmmm…cute butt…"  
"Again with the 'conversation is not necessary," Fifebee sighed.  
"Hey," Jall shrugged, "Checking out the scenery is always a good thing,"  
The peace of Le Plateau Argente was shattered as, across the room, Yanick jumped up from her seat and slammed Patsy Horton's wide-brimmed hat down, the brim ending up stuck beneath her nose.  
"My boyfriend is NOT gay!" Trish shrieked, storming out of the room.

Captain's Log, Stardate 58030.5  
"We've arrived in the Birtal system and commenced our sensor scans. So far, the number of questions we have sure outweighs the number of answers. Let's recap: We're chasing after a crazy woman and a Gorn who may or may not be in another universe, who may or may not be making an army of mutants-"  
Stafford became aware of a low rumbling directly behind him. Oh. That would be T'Parief growling. Whoops.  
"-er, hybrid beings worthy of the same respect of any lifeform. They've probably been created using the same research that created Mr. T'Parief, which may or may not have been on the up and up,"  
"And I'm suddenly getting very worried,"

"What do we have?" Noonan asked Fifebee as she ran her hands over the science station.  
"I am picking up a spatial disturbance, near the fifth planet in the system," she said.  
"Does it look at all like any kind of dimensional portal?" Stafford asked.  
"We are investigating alternate universes," Fifebee stated, "Not other dimensions.  
"Yeah," Stafford said, "But anytime I say 'universal portal', Jall starts giggling,"  
Jall giggled.  
"See?"  
"I have record of several phenomena relating to parallel universes," Fifebee stated, "Opening a portal is highly complex, but has been done before. The U.S.S. Secondprize opened a portal to the alternate universe known as the 'Happyverse' to obtain a happy beam, in the hopes of ending the Ugilious threat once and for all on stardate 54994.8."  
Everybody stared at her blankly.  
"Captain Rydell?" she tried again, "Secondprize? The ship that rescued us when we got back from the 21st century?"  
"Was that in the required reading?" Stafford whispered to Noonan.  
"Not really," Noonan whispered back, "it was in one of the appendices,"  
"Anyway," Fifebee rolled her eyes, "It's possible. From my initial scans, it looks as though there was once an anomaly of some kind here, but it has since collapsed in on itself. I suggest we take a closer look,"  
"One moment," T'Parief's panel had started beeping, "Sir, I have a ship on short-range sensors. Looks like a freighter,"  
"Shouldn't the long-range sensors have alerted us sooner?" Yanick asked from the helm.  
"The ship is adrift and without power," T'Parief explained, "The long-range scanners missed it,"  
"Oh," Yanick shrugged, "I love you, my heterosexual honey-bear,"  
"Er, thanks,"  
"Can we please focus here!" Stafford snapped, "T'Parief, take Jeffery and have Pysternzyks shuttle you over to the freighter. Yanick, once they're away, take use closer to the rift so Fifebee can start her scans,"  
Stafford sat firmly into his chair as his crew moved to follow his orders.  
"That was SO not professional," he grumbled to Noonan as the turbolift doors closed on T'Parief.  
"Nobody's perfect," Noonan shrugged.

"So," Pysternzyks asked conversationally as Jeffery and T'Parief strapped into the shuttlecraft Charger, "Where may I take you today? Certain doom? Oblivion?"  
"Try the freighter driftin' nearby," Jeffery snapped at the Andorian pilot,"  
"I hear Oblivion is nice this time of year," Pysternzyks went on.  
"Silence," T'Parief growled.  
"Right,"  
There was silence as the shuttlebay doors opened and the shuttle flew smoothly away from the ship, her saucer receding beneath them. As Jeffery watched, Yanick pulled the ship into a smooth turn before firing up the impulse engines and sending her flying away from the freighter.  
"Ah keep tellin' her not to push the impulse engines like that," Jeffery griped.  
"And I keep telling her to get rid of her potpourri lizards," T'Parief growled, clearly still in a bad mood, "She is stubborn sometimes,"  
"Aye, most women are," Jeffery agreed.  
"Some more than others," T'Parief added.  
"Are ye trying to imply somethin'?" Jeffery demanded.  
T'Parief was quiet.  
"May I ask you something…in confidence?" he asked the engineer.  
"Uh, Ah guess…"  
"If Wowryk were to offer herself to you, what would you do?"  
Jeffery chuckled.  
"Pinch meself and wake up," he said, "Why, did Yanick…"  
T'Parief nodded.  
"Bud," Jeffery said, "If ye don't do something, she's gonna think yer gay,"  
T'Parief crossed his arms and glared.  
"I am most certainly not. I have…other concerns at the moment," he said, "Let us change the topic,"  
"Uh, sure," Jeffery shrugged, "yer the one that brought it up,"

Jeffery and T'Parief were silent as they moved through the empty freighter. Each was clad in an environment suit, which they had donned in the shuttlecraft. Both had regretting not suiting up earlier, as the cramped cabin in the shuttle was especially cramped with a 7 foot tall lizard trying to squeeze into a space suit.  
They had found nothing so far. They'd docked at a docking port, using manual overrides to open the powerless doors. There were signs of weapons damage on the ship's hull, but nothing serious enough to explain the powerless state of the ship. Here and there were damaged sections of corridor, but again the damage was minor.  
Jeffery moved towards Engineering while T'Parief attempted to make his way to the bridge.  
"Hello, Simon," chirped a voice in his ear.  
"Sylvia!" Jeffery exclaimed, jumping nearly a foot into the air before his magnetic boots pulled him back down, "Don't do that! Ye scared the hell out of me!"  
"I'm sorry, Simon," Sylvia apologized, "I just wanted to ask you something,"  
"And it has to be now?"  
"I've been thinking hard about Admiral Tunney's offer," Sylvia explained.  
"Offer?"  
Sylvia filled him in on Tunney's offer of employment.  
"What?" Jeffery shouted, "That bastard! He can't do that! Yer part of the ship! He can't just rip ye out and shunt you from place to place-"  
"Simon, relax," Sylvia admonished him, "it was an offer, not an order,"  
"And yer actually thinking about leaving?" Jeffery asked, prying open the doors to the freighter's engine room.  
"I am," Sylvia admitted, "It would be an excellent chance to meet new people and contribute to the well-being of the fleet,"  
"They wanna stick you in a lab!" Jeffery snapped.  
"Only for a little while," Jeffery could almost hear the shrug in her voice.  
"Ah don't like it," he said firmly, tapping at a console, trying to bring power back online.  
"I didn't think you would," Sylvia sighed, "Which is odd, considering how you advised Noonan to get rid of me when I first 'came on board',"  
Jeffery blushed.  
"Ye heard that?"  
"I was still learning about the whole humanoid concept of 'privacy'," Sylvia explained.  
"Right," Jeffery brought the freighter's power core back online, "so what did ye wanna ask?"  
"If I left, would you go with me?"

T'Parief was tossed into the wall as the freighter shook around him.  
"Jeffery!" he snapped, "Report!"  
"Nothing! It's fine!" came Jeffery's rushed reply, "Just a wee 'oopsie' with the power up…" The line clicked off.  
Grumbling, T'Parief turned back towards the bridge-  
-and tripped over a body.

"We have restored power to the ship," T'Parief's voice came over the comm channel, "and located the crew. They are all dead. Cause of death is lacerations and blood loss. The wounds are consistent with…with…" T'Parief paused, "They match the damage I could inflict, sir,"  
"I'd say our raiders were definitely here," Noonan said calmly.  
"Yes, sir,"  
"Good work," Stafford said, "Is the freighter functional?"  
"It is," Jeffery's voice came on, "she's no beauty, but we've got most main systems online. The safety systems had shut down the core to prevent an overload. Easy enough to fix,"  
"Rendezvous with us here," Stafford ordered, "We'll bring the bodies on board and see about shipping them to, um, wherever they need to go,"  
"The bodies are Talarian, sir," T'Parief informed him.  
"Whoop-de-doo," Stafford twirled one finger in the air, "You have your orders. Stafford out,"  
He turned to Fifebee, "Ok, what's the story,"  
Fifebee turned in her chair, addressing the captain while continuing to type.  
"The rift clearly was a portal to another universe," she said, "Between the quantum signatures of the body we recovered and the readings from the rift, I believe it does indeed lead to the universe into which K'Eleese escaped,"  
"Uh, how do we know which universe she escaped to?" Yanick asked.  
"Porter told us the quantum signature he gave her," Noonan explained.  
"Right," Jall nodded, "when she tortured us,"  
"Remind me to thank her for that," Stafford said, "So," he turned back to Fifebee, "can we reopen the portal? And before you answer, either look at me, or type. When you do both it drives me crazy!"  
Fifebee turned fully away from her console.  
"Opening a portal to another universe requires a large amount of power," she said, "the larger the difference between the quantum phasic signatures, the greater the power required to open the portal. Although as this portal has already been opened once, it would be much easier to reopen," she turned back to her console, "Silverado, unfortunately, does not have enough power to reopen it. Mr. Porter must have purposefully given K'Eleese a phasic signature that differed greatly from that of our own universe. Likely to make her return more difficult,"  
"Crap," Stafford muttered.  
"Perhaps," Noonan said thoughtfully, "we could use the containment fields in the nacelles to build up a large enough power reserve to reopen it,"  
"It would take several days to generate enough power," Fifebee stated, "and we do not have the facilities to store enough of it,"  
"Crap," Noonan agreed.  
"What if we had somebody on the other side trying to open the portal too?" Jall asked.  
"That would work," Fifebee said after a moments thought, "How did you come up with that idea?'  
"Check your console,"  
Fifebee turned back to her console, then jerked in alarm.  
"Captain!" she snapped, "I'm picking up increased particle emissions from the rift! Somebody on the other side is using a multi-spectral quantum pulse to reopen the rift!"  
"So, Jall was right?" Yanick asked, confused, "Or does that mean he was wrong?"  
"It could be K'Eleese," Noonan suggested.  
"Captain," Fifebee tapped her panel again, "According to my readings, whomever is over there does not have enough power to open the portal,"  
"Which makes it unlikely to be K'Eleese," Noonan continued smoothly as Yanick, being ignored, pouted at her console.  
"Why not?" Stafford asked quickly.  
"She had enough power to open it once," Noonan's reply was equally swift, "Logically, she would have to power to open it again,"  
"Fifebee," Stafford said, "Do we have enough power to help them open it up?"  
"Yes sir,"  
"Do it,"

After less than 30 seconds of tinkering, a bright green beam of energy surged from Silverado's main deflector dish, striking the rift dead center. The anomaly, previous invisible to the eye, immediately started pulsing and shifting, growing into an amorphous green blob before starting to slowly rotate, bursts of energy rushing off in all directions.

"Captain," Fifebee reported, "The portal is stabilizing,"  
"I'm picking up a transmission!" Jall called out.  
"Let's hear," Stafford ordered.  
The comm system crackled to life, the voice filled with static.  
"To the vessel on the other side of the anomaly: we are being pursued by hostile ships! We read 22 heavy fighters; estimated time to intercept is 4 minutes! We request permission to enter your universe to discuss the being known as K'Eleese, and to seek refuge from her forces,"  
"That answers that question," Noonan muttered.  
"Tell them permission is granted," Stafford ordered.  
"Are you sure that's wise?" Noonan asked, "it could be a trick,"  
"You're the telepath, you tell me!"  
"It doesn't really work across universal barriers,"  
"Captain," Fifebee said, "a vessel is coming through. And it's big.  
Eyes snapped to the screen.  
Tearing out of the anomaly and flying straight at Silverado like a bat out of hell streaked a massive Sovereign-class starship, her sleek lines giving her the appearance of a sword flying straight at them. Her saucer and engineering sections flowed smoothly into each other; her swept back warp nacelles giving her an elongated look. The Sovereign-class was one of Starfleets newest ship types, representing the pinnacle of Federation technology.  
Yanick squealed in surprise as she pulled Silverado into a dive, the smaller Ambassador-class ship barely clearing the larger vessel.  
"Jeez!" Stafford exclaimed, gripping his armrest, "who the hell is driving that thing?"  
"We're being hailed," Jall reported.  
"On screen,"  
Gasps burst out across the bridge as a dark haired man appeared on the screen. He stood and straightened his uniform, using the approved Starfleet 'tuck and straighten', also known as 'The Picard Maneuver'. He spoke in a clear, confident voice, looking perfectly at home in the center of the gleaming bridge in which he stood.  
"This is Captain Christopher Stafford of the Federation starship Silverado. Thank you for your assistance…" his voice trailed off as he realized who he was looking at.  
Stafford (the first one) didn't move from his chair, his mouth hanging wide open. His eyes looked as wide as dinner plates.  
"Well," Noonan said, equally surprised, "this complicates things somewhat,"

End

So what happens when you end up confronted with an exact duplicate of yourself? Well, if they say opposites attract, then I bet everybody's in for a rough ride in 'Nobody's Perfect', Part 2!


	16. Nobody's Perfect - Part Two

Star Traks: Silverado

2.16 "Nobody's Perfect, Part 2"

Voice of Sylvia  
"Hello everybody, and welcome aboard Silverado! My name is Sylvia, and I'd be delighted to give you kids a quick rundown of what's been going on,"  
"While investigating an attack by a group of aliens baring a striking resemblance to the supposedly unique Lieutenant Commander T'Parief, Chris Stafford and all the rest of my crew followed the trail of a, er, somewhat mad Klingon named K'Eleese, thought to be banished to an unknown parallel universe. Finding the remains of a portal between the universes, Stafford and crew arrive just in time to help reopen the portal,"  
"Imagine our surprise at what we found…"

"Well, this complicates things somewhat," Noonan said softly.  
Stafford just stared at the main viewscreen.  
Not that he was alone in that. Everybody, Ensign Yanick, Lieutenant Fifebee, Lt. Cmdr. T'Parief, Lieutenant Jall and even the no-name ensign working the port Auxiliary console were dumbstruck by what they saw. There was a buzz as a hologram of a middle-aged blond woman appeared. Evidently Sylvia, the sentient personality that had accidentally been created in the ship's computer core, found the situation bizarre enough to warrant more personal involvement.  
On the other side of the viewscreen, the scene was similar. The bridge on the screen was different and there were a few unfamiliar faces, but there was no mistaking the man standing in front of the command chair. He'd even introduced himself: Captain Christopher Stafford.  
The alternate Stafford was the first to find his voice.  
"Uh," he hesitated; straightening his uniform again in the approved Starfleet matter, "Thank you for your assistance…" he trailed off.  
Stafford blinked and seared for something say. Normally Noonan was very good at covering his Captain's occasional mute moments, but Noonan himself found he was having difficulties speaking. Stafford finally spoke up.  
"What the HELL?"

"An excellent question," Commander Jall-2 murmured, loud enough for his Captain to hear, but not loud enough for the audio pickup.  
"Captain," Lieutenant Commander Jane 6-E spoke up from the science console, "The portal has stabilized. Enemy ships will be coming through in one minute!"  
On the viewscreen, the other ship's science officer was relaying similar information to her Stafford.  
"Red Alert! Lieutenant Commander Stern," alternate Stafford, for he was the visitor in this universe, ordered, "shields up, weapons armed. Lieutenant Yanick, move us away from the portal,"  
"Aye sir," Stern-2 nodded. Yanick was already tapping at her console, moving the huge Sovereign-class ship around the smaller Ambassador-class ship they had encountered.  
Alternate Stafford considered the other ship. Clearly, they were friendly, not like the hostile inhabitants of the Mirror Universe, or the lunatics in the Happyverse. The other ship would be a big help against the oncoming fighters that were about to come boiling through the portal. Still, it wouldn't equal his Silverado.  
"I suggest," he said to the other Stafford, "that we save explanations and such until we're all out of danger,"  
"Right," Stafford growled, "And by the way, you're welcome for the help!"  
He cut the channel.  
Alternate Stafford took a moment to think about his counterpart's rudeness before turning back to his own crew and snapping orders.

"Pompous windbag," Stafford growled, "Red Alert! T'Parief, shields up, weapons armed. Get the pulse cannon charging too. Who the hell does that guy think he is? We let him into our universe, offering him safe haven from whatever's attacking him, and then he wants to push us around? Ensign Yanick, move us away from the portal. Get some distance between us and that other ship,"  
He turned to Sylvia's hologram.  
"Er, Sylvia," he said, "We could use your help with damage control and-"  
"I know what to do, Chris," Sylvia said, sounding distracted. Her hologram fizzled out of existence. Stafford could hear her voice on the comm system ordering backup crew into position.  
"We've got fighters coming through!" T'Parief snapped, "They are running with weapons hot!"

Sobek 46 shook off a brief wave of vertigo as his fighter cleared the portal between the universes. His eyes narrowed as he found not one Starfleet ship waiting for him, but two.  
So that's why Silverado tried reopening the portal, even though they clearly didn't have the ability to do it themselves. They'd gambled on there being another ship on the other side willing to help them. A gamble they'd apparently won.  
Sobek 46 armed his weapons and targeted the larger of the two ships. They might have won that gamble, but he still had 22 fighters. It wouldn't be an overwhelming victory, but could still do some serious damage.

The two Silverados positioned themselves at a comfortable distance from the rift and from each other. The alternate ship, Silverado-2 for convenience sake, looking sleek and powerful next to the older Ambassador-class ship. Bursting from the portal like wasps from a hive came the first round of fighters.  
The fighters themselves were vaguely reptilian in design, with the cockpit where a head would be. A sleek, green fuselage made up the body, while two weapons pods looked like claws reaching forward. The aft end of each fighter was adorned with 3 compact warp nacelles. The first wave of 8 ships broke into two groups, with 3 heading for Silverado and the remaining 5 heading for Silverado-2. Even as they approached their targets, another wave of fighters boiled from the portal.

"They're going for our nacelles!" snapped Commander Stern-2 from the Tactical position on the Silverado-2's bridge as the ship shook slightly, "shields are holding,"  
"The other ship has 3 attackers," Sikcee (Jane 6-E) reported, "Their shields are holding as well, they are returning fire,"  
Stafford-2 watched as the Ambassador-class ship fired bright red phaser beams, striking two of her 3 attackers. To his right, First Officer Jall-2 tapped at his mini-console.  
"Somebody's been upgrading the weapons on that ship, "he notified Stafford, clearly surprised.  
"Good," Stafford shrugged, "If the enemy underestimates them as much as you obviously did, that bodes well,"  
Jall-2 acknowledged the jab with a crooked grin and a nod.  
"Continue evasive maneuvers," he ordered Lieutenant Yanick-2, "Lieutenant Noonan, any response to our hails?"  
"No, sir," replied Lieutenant Kelsey Noonan from the Ops panel, "No response,"

"Why don't they fire!?" Stafford snapped, trying to keep track of the ships attacking his ship even as he checked the readings on the other Silverado, "They're just sitting there letting themselves be shot at!"  
Silverado shuddered slightly as T'Parief nailed one of the fighters, blowing it to smithereens.  
"They are," Noonan said softly, "probably analyzing the enemy's attack patterns and confirming that their hails have not been answered,"  
"What a waste of time!" Stafford shook his head, "They're shooting at us, that's good enough for me!"  
"Starfleet DOES usually prefer that-"  
"Shut up!"  
"More ships on the way!" Jall piped in as T'Parief blew up another fighter, "looks like most of them are coming right at us!"  
"T'Parief," Stafford turned to his hulking, somewhat cranky Security Chief, "How long has it been since I let you play with the pulse phaser cannon?"  
"Far too long," T'Parief growled, a predatory smile creasing his features.  
"Have fun," Stafford smirked, pointing at the new cluster of fighters approaching from the portal.

"What are they doing anyway?" Stafford-2 frowned, watching on his mini-console as the smaller Starfleet vessel blasted one of the alien fighters into dust.  
"Fighting back," Commander Jall-2 shrugged.  
"Well, yeah," Stafford-2 replied, "It just seems weird that a Federation ship is firing all its weapons so soon in the battle,"  
"Starfleet policy is to fire a few light shots to discourage your enemies," Stern-2 complained from Tactical, "then only blow them away after they do serious damage to your ship,"  
"Clearly these guys don't agree,"  
"More fighters on the way," Kelsey Noonan piped in, "looks like most of them are focusing on Silverado.  
Yanick, Stafford, Stern and Jall frowned.  
"The OTHER Silverado," Kelsey clarified.  
"Time to show them who's the bigger threat," Stafford-2 vowed, "Fire all weapons!"  
"Yes sir!" Stern replied with a dark grin.

An external viewer would have sworn the two ships had planned it.  
As the flight of reptilian fighters cut through space, racing towards the Federation ships they broke into two groups. The larger group changed course to intercept the smaller ship, the one with weapons blazing in all directions. The smaller group headed towards the larger and so far less aggressive vessel.  
As one, the two starships cut loose with their full strength.  
Aboard Silverado, T'Parief fired the ships heavy phaser cannon. The cannon, powered by special energy capacitor cells installed by Jeffery, spat half a dozen heavy bolts of coherent energy, each bolt aimed at one of the attacking ships.  
Aboard Silverado-2, Stern finally let loose the full might of the Sovereign-class ship. Even two years of modifications and upgrades couldn't make an old Ambassador-class ship equal the most powerful ship in Starfleet's arsenal. Thick red phaser beams speared out, more often then not hitting their targets dead center and blasting vital systems to cinders.  
Yanick fired port thrusters, while Yanick-2 fired starboard thrusters. The result was that each ship dodged nimbly out of the path of the weak and sporadic return fire.  
The attacking ships, a full 3/4s of their force destroyed, turned towards the portal and retreated.

Stafford-2 nodded with satisfaction as the last of the alien ships vanished.  
"Damage report?" he asked.  
"Our shields took heavy damage," Kelsey Noonan reported, "Hull breach on Decks 7, 12 and 13. The optical data network is down on Deck 6 and we have a few overloaded plasma relays on Deck 16 as well,"  
"Dispatch repair teams," Jall-2 ordered. He turned to Stafford, "I'd like to pull Sikcee into a science lab and see if we can get an idea of what our counterpart over there is capable of,"  
Stafford-2 smiled to himself. Leave it to Jall to be right on the ball.  
"I don't think we really have anything to worry about trouble from them," Stafford said, "But I agree that we should know what we're dealing with,"

"Hah!" Stafford smirked, "Take that!"  
"The alien ships have retreated," T'Parief added, somewhat after the fact.  
"Damage report?" Commander Noonan inquired.  
Jall made a show of stretching his arms, then cracking his knuckles. Shrugging his shoulders, he suddenly reached back to scratch his head.  
Watching this display of preening, Stafford felt the smirk slide right off his face. He cringed as Jall flexed his back, loosing a series of pops as his spine cracked.  
"For the love of God!" Stafford snapped, "Cut that out!"  
"Cut what out?" Jall asked. He rotated one wrist with a soft crack. Stafford's shoulder's hunched as his breath shot out, "You mean this?" Jall asked.  
"Captain," T'Parief called from Tacticale, "we're-"  
"Why the hell would you do that?" Stafford demanded, "Doesn't it hurt? It can't feel good!"  
Jall shrugged.  
"Actually-" he started.  
"We're being hailed by the other ship!" T'Parief roared, drowning out Stafford and Jall.  
Stafford blinked. Fifebee turned from her science station to mutter softly to T'Parief.  
"You seem upset," she said, "Do you perhaps need a hug?"  
T'Parief stared coldly at her.  
Fifebee turned away.  
"Mental note," she muttered, "initiate repression of personality subroutine 2658: Webber, Clair,"  
Stafford-2 finally appeared on the screen.  
"I hope you're in decent shape after that scuffle?" he asked.  
"Of course we are," Stafford replied, "Why wouldn't we be?"  
"Er, no reason," Stafford-2 said, clearly trying to repress a grin, "I'm glad we could be of assistance,"  
"Hey!" Stafford snapped, "What do you mean? YOU sent out a distress call! WE helped YOU!"  
"Of course you did," Stafford-2 chuckled.  
"Why you smug, arrogant-"  
"Regardless of that battle," Noonan cut in, "I think you'll agree that now would be a good time to discuss how exactly we're going to deal with K'Eleese,"  
"Quite right," Stafford-2 frowned, "And you are?"  
"First Officer Matthew Noonan," Noonan replied, noting that the Silverado-2's Ops officer jerked her head in surprise at that.  
Stafford-2's eyes darted briefly to his officer, then back to Stafford's.  
"I invite you and your senior officers to visit Silverado," he said finally, "I trust you'll find our facilities most impressive,"  
"It's not the size that counts, buddy!" Stafford snapped.  
"Yeah!" Jall cut in, "It's how you use it.  
"That's just something that people with little ships say!" Stafford-2 shot back.  
"Perhaps we can split things up a bit," Jall-2 cut in.  
Stafford did a double take. It looked like the other Jall was sitting in the First Officer's chair. What the hell?  
"Shouldn't we maybe try actually doing something?" Stafford said, "Like maybe CHASING AFTER K'ELEESE? I assume that's what this is about, seeing as how she's probably somewhere in your universe plotting her next attack against us!"  
Stafford-2 didn't budge.  
"We're not even sure where she went," he said firmly, "The portal is stable, for the time being, and we have two ships full of people who are completely unfamiliar with each other!"  
"We're the same people!" Stafford objected.  
"I agree," Noonan turned to Stafford, "With him. You, T'Parief, Yanick and Fifebee could visit the other Silverado. In turn, we could host the counterparts for Dr. Wowryk, Mr. Jeffery, Mr. Jall and myself. I think it's important that we understand each other before we undertake any action against K'Eleese,"  
"Fine, whatever. I'm game," Stafford grumbled, "What do you think?" he asked Stafford-2.  
"Sounds good," Stafford-2 agreed, "In half an hour then,"  
"One hour!" Stafford shot back.  
"40 minutes," Stafford-2 replied.  
"45 minutes,"  
"Done!"

Stafford-2 shook his head as the holographic screen shut down, revealing the blank front wall of the bridge.  
"Well," he sighed, "Dealing with these people could be interesting. I sure don't recall ever being that difficult!"  
"Would your wife say the same?" Jall-2 asked with a twinkle in his eye.  
Stafford laughed.  
"Good point," he stood, "Commander Jall, you'll take Dr. Wowryk, Lieutenant Noonan and Commander Jeffery to the other ship. My counterpart and I will determine a course of action. I want you to get a reading on this other ship. I want to know what kind of people these are, and whether they're more likely to help us, or hold us back,"  
"Yes sir," Jall nodded.

Stafford clenched his fist as the viewscreen at the front of the bridge switched back to show an image of the universal portal.  
"Have I ever been that much of an insufferable snot?" he asked, hand open, "And no, Jall, I don't want to know what YOU think!"  
"He did seem pretty sure of himself," Yanick offered from the help, "You could probably learn something from him,"  
"Right," Stafford bit off another rude remark, "OK. Fifebee, Yanick, T'Parief. You're with me. We're going to see what they know about these T'Parief look-alikes and K'Eleese. Oh, and by the way, get repair teams dispatched. Those reptoids got some pretty good shots in before they retreated,"  
Stafford turned to Noonan.  
"You're easily the most perceptive officer I got. I'm going to want to know what you think about our 'friends' over there," Stafford lowered his voice, "Use whatever secret tricks you've got. I don't want any surprises,"  
"Understood," Noonan nodded.

"So I understand we're having guests," Sylvia commented as Jeffery finished up his repair work on the starboard power transfer conduit. The conduit had taken damage during the fight and needed to be repaired before the starboard warp nacelle could be used again.  
"Aye," Jeffery confirmed, "that's right Sylvia. Ah get to meet meself from another universe. Cool, huh?"  
"I suppose," Sylvia shrugged, "I wouldn't know, really."  
"What do ye mean?" Jeffery asked, "Ye've got a Sovereign-class sister parked off yer port beam!"  
"I do," Sylvia agreed, "But that doesn't mean I have a counterpart onboard,"  
"Ah would think we'd all have our twins," Jeffery shrugged, "Ah know that mine, Noonan's, Wowryk's and Jall's will be coming over here,"  
"Except that Noonan's counterpart is a scared young woman," Sylvia interjected.  
"Really?" Jeffery shrugged, "Weird,"  
"In any event, I've contacted the computer aboard the other vessel. I have no counterpart on board," Silvia said sadly, "The only response I got to my hello message was 'Please hold, a Starfleet Representative will be with you shortly',"  
"Ah, um," Jeffery really didn't know what to say. Obviously the string of minor sabotage, malfunctions and finally alien energy fields that had brought Sylvia to life in this universe hadn't taken place in the other one, "Ah've always said you were one of a kind?" The statement, meant to be reassuring, came out as more of a question.  
"Right," Sylvia sighed, "thanks. So, er, have you given any thought to my offer?"  
"Oh!" In the rush to get back to the ship from the alien freighter they'd found before the portal opened and the ensuing battle, Jeffery had completely forgotten that Sylvia, having been asked by Admiral Tunney to leave Silverado for an 'examination' before helping to renovate and refit other Operation Salvage ships, had asked him to come along.  
"It's a nice opportunity," Jeffery mused.  
"It's a career-making opportunity," Sylvia corrected, "With the number of ships we'd be working on,"  
"Ye sound like you've made your decision," Jeffery said.  
"Partly," Sylvia admitted, "It is an interesting proposition. However, it is not one I'm willing to pursue alone,"  
"Really?"  
"Aside from the wish to have an organic being to speak for and protect me, I'd really like to have a familiar face around," Jeffery could almost hear the smile in Sylvia's voice.  
Jeffery thought for a moment. Could he leave Silverado? He'd put his sweat, blood and possibly drool into this ship. From the rotting shipwreck she'd been to the functional vessel she'd become, he'd been with Silverado before Sylvia had even been created. What about Stafford? His best bud? There's no way he'd leave his command to go with Jeffery, nor would Jeffery want him to. The two of them had been together for years, always watching out for each other. And what about Noel? She might be convinced to go…but without the counseling they were getting from Yvonnokoff, Jeffery wasn't sure just how long their relationship would last. As much as he loved her, he'd realized some time ago that he had to stand up for himself and protect his rights, something that often clashed against Wowryk's dominating personality. Why, if not for little Luke being there to occupy so much of her attention, who knows what kind of clashes they might have had?  
"Sylvia," he said, "Ah can't decide something like that so quickly. Ah don't have anywhere near your processing capacity!"  
"Of course, Simon," Sylvia said, "I suspect this business with K'Eleese and the other Silverado will keep us busy for several days at least,"  
"Yer not kidding," Jeffery agreed.

Stafford-2 stepped briskly into Transporter Room 1 as Ensign Pysternzkys programmed in the co-ordinates, Jall entering right behind him.  
"I have Stern and Sikcee's report on the other ship," he said, brandishing a padd.  
"Let's hear it," Stafford-2 said, nodding to Pysternzyks as the Andorian officer politely bared his teeth.  
"Ambassador-class, heavily refitted," Jall-2 said, "From what we can tell, the spaceframe is at least 50 years old-"  
"50 years!" Stafford-2 was taken aback.  
"Yup," Jall-2 agreed, "She's an old girl. We took a closer look at some of the refit components. Looks like the warp drive, nav deflector and weapons arrays were replaced between 18 and 24 months ago, along with a significant fraction of the outer hull and structural members,"  
"Geez," Stafford-2 shook his head, "I don't envy the crew that had to go through that! I wonder why Starfleet didn't just build a new ship? It's not like the shipyards have been all that busy lately,"  
"Ours haven't," Jall-2 pointed out, "Who knows what's happened in this universe. Maybe this is the best they can do,"  
Stafford-2 shuddered.  
The doors swished open as Dr. Wowryk-2 and Commander Jeffery-2 entered.  
"Good day," Wowryk-2 said, smiling warmly as she nodded at Stafford and Jall in turn, "How are you today?"  
"Fine thanks, Doc," Stafford-2 smiled back. Wowryk-2 could always brighten the day with her presence. She was a lot like her friend Yanick that way, though with a quiet dignity that Stafford envied.  
"Heya Chris," Jeffery-2 nodded, "Did ye get a look at that antique over there?"  
"Yeah," Stafford-2 nodded, "San was just giving me the run-down,"  
"Ah'd like to meet the man who's kept her together all this time!" Jeffery said, a gleam in his eye.  
"Look in the mirror, dear," Wowryk laughed.  
"Computer," Stafford called, "Repair status?"  
"Repairs complete," stated the cold, emotionless voice of the ships computer, "All systems answer with an operational status of 90% or better,"  
"Good," Stafford smiled, "All set for company!"

The first thing Jeffery-2 noticed when he materialized on the other Silverado was the sign on the wall that said 'Use at Own Risk'.  
The second thing he noticed was himself, standing right next to a complete twin of Jall. Wowryk's counterpart was there as well, along with a pale, dark-haired man.  
The dark-haired man quickly made the introductions, as unnecessary as they were. Jeffery-2 felt his eyebrows rise when he introduced himself as First Officer Matthew Noonan.  
"Hiya, handsome," Jall said, giving his counterpart a smooth smile.  
"Hello," Jall-2 inclined his head politely, but said nothing else.  
"And this," Jeffery-2 said, "Is Lieutenant Kelsey Noonan,"  
"I guess there are some differences between our universes," Noonan said. There was a polite smile on his face, but something in his voice sounded sad. Very sad.  
"Aren't you going to introduce me?" Jeffery-2 started at the strange voice that seemed to come from all directions.  
"Er, right," Noonan's smile was definitely strained now, "Gentlebeings, I'd like you to meet the Federation Starship Silverado. Better known as Sylvia,"  
Sylvia's hologram materialized in the center of the room.  
"Nice to meet you all," she said, her somewhat cool voice a counterpoint to her dramatic entrance.  
"That's an interesting computer interface," Jall-2 said, walking around Sylvia, who glared at him, "our Starfleet looked at replacing voice commands with interactive holograms, but decided it was too much of a distraction-"  
"DISTRACTION?" Sylvia huffed.  
"She's not an interface," Jeffery said, looking a little smugly at Jeffery-2, "She's a sentient personality. One of a kind, actually,"  
"Seems like a security risk to me," Jall-2 frowned.  
"She's worth it!" Jeffery snapped.  
"I think I'll be going now," Sylvia said coldly. Her hologram vanished.  
Noonan and Jeffery exchanged glances, then Noonan forced a smile at his counterpart and gestured to the door.

The first thing Stafford-2 noticed as his counterpart materialized on the transporter pad was the large reptile standing behind him.  
"Security alert!" he snapped, "We've got a Sobek on board! Security to Transporter Room 1!"  
As he snapped his commands, Commander Stern-2 pulled his phaser from the holster and fired at the invader.  
T'Parief dodged the beam, using both arms to push Stafford, Yanick and Fifebee to the ground. Fifebee gave her holo-relay a good shove on the way down, sending the device floating out of the line of fire.  
"Hold your fire!" Stafford shouted from the floor. T'Parief, torn between firing at his attackers and obeying his captain, hesitated for a crucial second. He felt a stab of betrayal as Stern-2 fired on him, sending him reeling to the deck.  
"NOBODY MOVE!" snapped Commander Stern-2 as T'Parief crashed to the floor.  
"What do you think you're doing?" Yanick snapped, ignoring Stern-2's order and moving closer to T'Parief.  
"Good f**king question!" Stafford snapped, holding his hands up as he climbed back to his feet.  
"We just saved your lives!" Stafford-2 snapped back, "I'd think some thanks would be in order,"  
"Um, Captain-" Stern-2 started, but Stafford cut him off.  
"Saved our lives?" Stafford dropped his arms, an unhealthy flush coming over his normally pleasant complexion, "Why the hell would we need saving?"  
"Captain-" Stern-2 tried again.  
"What is it, Commander?" Stafford-2 asked, leaving his counterpart's question unanswered.  
"The Sobek is wearing a Starfleet uniform," Stern-2 said.  
"The what?" Stafford demanded, "That's T'Parief, my Chief of Security. Or he was, until you stunned the hell out of him!"  
"Sobek," Fifebee supplied thoughtfully, "Egyptian Crocodile god,"  
"Often seen as a bodyguard or protector of other gods," Sikcee countered.  
"Such as Ra and Set," Fifebee agreed.  
"Right," Stafford was pacing the transporter room as Yanick helped two medtechs lift T'Parief onto a stretcher, "And what does this have to do with T'Parief?"  
"The aliens that attacked us go by the name of Sobek," Stern-2 explained, "And he looks just like them,"  
"Maybe," Stafford-2 said wearily, "now would be a good time for us to exchange information on our present circumstances?"

"He's adorable!"  
Wowryk raised an eyebrow as her counterpart, Wowryk-2, picked up Luke and eyed his baby-like features carefully.  
/You're not so bad yourself, toots,/ Luke, AKA Lord Stalart thought-spoke to himself. Noonan, leading the rest of the visitors out of Sickbay experienced a slight twinge of pain, but nobody else was aware of the telepathic alien's ability to communicate, /With the two of you and the one of me, I see some very interesting possibilities!/  
"I suppose," Wowryk agreed carefully, "I sure didn't think so when we found him,"  
"He's a sweet little baby!" Wowryk-2 gushed.  
"He's going to grow up into a filthy male, filled with all the sinful urges that comes with being a man!" Wowryk said. Her therapy sessions with Yvonnokoff were helping her a great deal; she finished the whole sentence in a completely calm voice rather than an outranged rant.  
"He is," Wowryk-2 looked a little sad, "But as my father always said: 'Love the sinner, hate the sin,'"  
Wowryk blinked.  
"Daddy never said that!" she said.  
"Really?" Wowryk-2 was intrigued, "What did he say?"  
"'Burn the sinners in the lake of fire!' was his favorite saying," Wowryk replied.  
"Oh," Wowryk-2 sighed, "one of those," she put Luke down on the floor and turned back to her counterpart, "What about 'love thy neighbor'?" she asked.  
"I would think," Wowryk said, frowning, "that the saying refers to proper, Catholic neighbors,"  
"Love the sinner, hate the sin," Wowryk-2 said again, her facing taking on a somewhat beatific expression, "God loves us all,"  
"He does," Wowryk agreed, leading her counterpart into her office and gesturing for her to take a seat. Instead, she started looking around. Her attention came to a small cabinet discretely positioned beside the door, out of view of the casual visitor.  
"What's this?" Wowryk-2 asked.  
"Oh," Wowryk had pulled two glasses of clear water out of the replicator, "Daddy gave that to me when I left, just in case,"  
The cabinet in question contained a bottle of holy water, a Bible, a crucifix and a rosary. In large letters on the back surface was printed 'In Case of Blasphemy, Break Glass'.  
"Where's the glass?" Wowryk-2 asked, reaching through the open, glassless face to examine the rosary.  
Wowryk shrugged.  
"I got tired of cleaning the mess and replacing the glass 4 or 5 times a day," she replied.  
The women shared a laugh; neither of them noticing Luke as he popped open the hatch leading into the Jefferies tube system.

"It all started," Stafford-2 explained, "on the planet Nisus,"  
Stafford, Fifebee, Yanick, their counterparts, Stern and T-Parief were gathered in the spacious and well-appointed conference room of the Sovereign-class Silverado. Cheered somewhat that the other crew feared him enough to shoot him, T'Parief glowered from his seat. Something about T'Parief nagged at the back of Stafford's mind, but refused to make an appearance.  
Fifebee and Sikcee had compared notes over a computer link, and were helping Stafford and Stafford-2 to analyze the situation.  
"Two individuals, a Gorn and a Klingon, materialized during a routing transporter test several months ago," Sikcee explained, "They quickly departed the planet and disappeared. Later analysis of the transporter records indicated that they had originated in this universe,"  
"T'Parief's vacation," Stafford cut in knowingly. He nodded at T'Parief, who quickly summarized the events that had occurred on Nisus months before.  
"He did report that Slezar and K"Eleese had escaped into another reality," Fifebee confirmed.  
"And you didn't see fit to tell us?" Commander Stern-2 demanded.  
"Starfleet decided that any contact with another universe would be dangerous," Stafford said firmly.  
"We call it being careful," Yanick added helpfully.  
"I call it irresponsible!" Stafford-2 growled. Yanick bit her lip, her features flushing.  
"Be nice to her," T'Parief warned.  
"Oh!" Yanick-2 smiled, "Are you two together? That's so sweet!"  
It stuck Stafford like a phaser blast.  
There was only one T'Parief.

On board the other Silverado, both Jefferys, Jalls, Commander Noonan and Lieutenant Noonan were gathered in the conference room, comparing notes. The two Jefferys were huddled around a computer panel, while the others exchanged notes. Noonan, as per his captain's orders, was paying rapt attention to everything around him.  
"So you're an Operations guy, huh?" Commander Jall-2 said to his counterpart, just a hint of condescension in his tone.  
"I WAS First Officer of the Sutherland for over a year!" Jall shot back.  
"Oh, demoted!" Jall-2 laughed, "How did that happen? Captain Delores and I always got along great,"  
"It had nothing to do with Captain Delores!" Jall said, "And I don't want to talk about it!"  
"Of course not," Jall-2 smirked, "Lieutenant!"  
"Oh, you son of a b-"  
"Tell me about yourself, Lieutenant Noonan," Noonan said firmly, ending any further argument, "I find it interesting that we should be so different, while Jall, Jeffery and Wowryk appear to have near-identical counterparts,"  
"I don't have any brothers or uncles named Matthew," Kelsey Noonan frowned, "Although, my great-great…well, I'm not sure how many great's to throw in. Anyway, my great-whatever-grandfather was named Matthew. He was in Starfleet, he served aboard the Columbia, one of the first NX-class ships. Part of the security team I think. Cited for bravery, awarded the Federation Cross, yada yada. Dad has a picture of him in his den. He really looks just like you!"  
"Really," Noonan swallowed, "What happened to him?"  
"Killed in the line of duty," Kelsey said, "On Andor, back when we were still learning about Andorian society,"  
"How come you know so much about ancient family?" Jall asked, "I'm not even sure what my great-grandfather's name was!"  
"Rikath Jall, was our father's father's father," Jall-2 stated, "And on the human side-"  
"Like, shut up already!" Jall snapped.  
Jall-2 pursed his lips, as though throwing a mocking kiss in Jall's direction.  
"It's sort of a family legend," Kelsey admitted, "The Andorians apologized, but Pappy Matt was sort of a hero to the family back then. Hence the family legend."  
"I see," Noonan replied. Kelsey could have sworn that there was something unspeakable sad in his eyes.

"So where is K'Eleese getting her material from?" Stafford asked.  
Stafford-2 had explained in detail what had happened in the alternate universe after K'Eleese and Slezar had arrived. The two of them had found their way off of Nisus, then vanished. Months later, colonies near the Gorn border had been attacked in a series of raids. The Gorn Hegemony had firmly denied any involvement, though the Federation somewhat doubted their sincerity based on the design of the fighter craft.  
Up until the first capture. Performed by none other than the Silverado-2.  
"We knew at once they were genetically engineered," Stafford-2 had said, "By Federation technology no less. What we couldn't figure out was how. Something like this would take years of research. Starfleet Intelligence poured over reports and records of every genetics library, from Earth, to Nisus, to Kominor Prime. Not a clue,"  
"K'Eleese is, er, resourceful," Stafford said quickly.  
"Captain," T'Parief looked straight at Stafford, "I will explain-"  
"Commander," Stafford said firmly, "you don't have to-"  
"DO NOT CODDLE ME!" T'Parief snarled, baring his fangs. Stafford cringed back so hard his chair skittered back from the table.  
"It dishonors us both!" T'Parief finished as he turned to the rest of the group, who were watching in silence.  
"I believe," he said, "That my father took advantage of the Federation's leniency in allowing genetic engineering for procreation. I believe he used my mother to justify his experiments in merging Klingon, Andorian and Gorn DNA. I was an early attempt to create a race of soldiers. A prototype. He has now had the opportunity to perfect his design and has started mass-producing copies of me in this universe,"  
The hulking officer leaned back in his seat and was silent.  
Stafford swallowed, suddenly understanding what his officer was feeling. Obviously T'Parief had connected the dots better than he had. He wondered briefly if T'Parief's beliefs matched the theories that Fifebee had preferred not to voice.  
After a moment, Stafford-2 went on to explain what K'Eleese was doing, how her forces had grown in strength and numbers, raiding colonies and hijacking freighters. But he hadn't explained how she had gotten her hands on ships and supplies in the first place.  
"We're still investigating that," he said, "Admiral Jaroch is pretty sure that either the Gorn or the Klingons are secretly supplying her,"  
"To what purpose," T'Parief grumbled, "What is her motivation?"  
Sikcee took over.  
"There are rumors," she said, "that K'Eleese is attempting to form a kind of coalition of worlds. Perhaps she wishes to be a queen, or merely wants plenty of peons to do her bidding. Of course, if we knew which planets were negotiating with her, we would be much closer to learning who her supporters are,"  
"Perhaps she's trying to acquire great wealth?" Fifebee suggested.  
"Unlikely," Sikcee said coldly, "What good is wealth when replicator technology is so commonplace?"  
Stafford could almost feel the temperature drop as Fifebee regarded her counterpart.  
"She is insane," Fifebee said slowly, as though talking to a child, "You cannot predict her motives based on rational behavior!"  
"The series 5 Starfleet hologram is HARDLY one to lecture on rational behavior," Sikcee said gently, "It was one of the corrections made to the series 6-"  
"I see they forgot to remove the BITCH protocols!" Fifebee fumed.  
"Er, so what do we do next?" Stafford asked.  
"Martinis?" Yanick suggested hopefully.  
"I meant in terms of the mission," Stafford chuckled.  
"D'uh!" Yanick-2 muttered softly.  
"We were tracking down K'Eleese's headquarters when we were ambushed by her fighters," Stern-2 said, "We feel we're very close, especially once we detected the remains of her universal portal,"  
"About that," Stafford-2 interjected, "Why did she go to all the trouble of opening a portal back to your universe?"  
Stafford started to speak, but T'Parief beat him to it.  
"The only actions undertaken by her pilots was to attack us," he said, "I suspect that is the reason,"  
"You've dealt with her before?"  
"Oh yeah," Stafford said.  
"Could you explain?" Stafford-2 asked.  
"Um," Stafford considered. They'd thwarted K'Eleese's plans to steal a planet-crushing device, then failed to stop her escape from Tantalus 5. Finally, T'Parief, Jall and Yanick had failed to stop her plans on Nisus, although Porter from Waystation had managed to trick her into going to Stafford-2's universe rather than the war-torn and loopy 'Happyverse'.  
"Actually," he finally said, "I'd really rather not. Suffice to say she really doesn't like us,"  
There was silence for several moments.  
"Well then," Stafford-2 finally said, "We have some time until the portal closes. I suggest you help us located K'Eleese's hideout and nip her plans in the bud before they really get going,"  
"Why should we help you?" Stafford asked, "This sounds like a problem for your universe and your Starfleet,"  
"Except that it's a problem from YOUR universe," Stern-2 said pointedly, "And you're responsible,"  
"One might even say it's your duty to help us," Stafford-2 added.  
Stafford thought for a moment.  
"How long will the portal be open?"  
"74 hours," Fifebee said promptly, "But-"  
"We can extend that time considerably with a low-level tachyon pulse," Sikcee cut her off.  
"I was speaking," Fifebee said coldly.  
"There was a 79 percent chance that my plan would be better than yours," Sikcee said disdainfully.  
Klingon ridges promptly began sprouting from Fifebee's forehead.  
"Could a runabout do that?" Stafford-2 asked quickly, trying to hold back the coming explosion.  
"Yes," Fifebee and Sikcee said together.  
"I guess we don't really have any reason not to help you," Stafford said.  
"So good to know you'll help US clean up YOUR mess," Stafford-2 smiled.

"What a bunch of pricks!" Jall fumed, pacing back and forth in the Silverado's conference room, his fists clenched.  
"Snobs even," Fifebee agreed.  
"Arrogant," Sylvia chipped in.  
"And with good cause," Stafford mused, thumbing through a data padd Stafford-2 had given him. They'd exchanged some basic info on the doings and happenings in their respective universes, "They have a pretty impressive list of accomplishments. 14 first contacts, they uncovered a plot to assassinate the Vulcan ambassador and they were part of a task force that pushed back their latest Borg threat. They and a ship called the Explorer managed to trick the cube into attacking a deserted planet rather than a colony of 2 billion,"  
"That doesn't give them the right to be mean," Yanick objected.  
"Kelsey was quite polite," Noonan murmured, then fell back into the depressed silence he'd fallen into since her departure.  
"So they're hot stuff," Jeffery shrugged, "What's the problem?"  
"The problem?" Stafford sighed, "Is that they're looking down their noses at us!"  
"But I thought they WERE us," Wowryk asked, "I mean, the other me seemed like me. She was so good with Luke too! He snuck out on us, and she and Sylvia wound up having to coax him out of a Jefferies tube. Nice woman, although she had some very interesting ideas that quite frankly hadn't occurred to me,"  
"It's a different universe," Noonan mused, almost to himself, "The same people, the same places. Just different choices," he let out a long sigh, "They're the people we might have been,"  
"Right," Stafford said dryly, "If Starfleet handed me a Sovereign-class starship and a version of Jall gifted with motivation I could turn back the Borg too," he snorted, "I don't think so!"  
"It's not just the choices we made," Fifebee pointed out, "But the decisions made by Starfleet, other ships, other crews, even our ancestors! Imagine what we might have accomplished if we hadn't spent a year and a half focused on salvaging this ship and being ignored by Starfleet,"  
Sylvia's viewscreen persona glared at Fifebee and started to speak.  
"Not that it hasn't been worth it!" Fifebee quickly amended.  
"Other factors too," Jall chipped in, "I mean, we all know about the Mirror Universe the Enterprise found…where everybody is evil? I don't think everybody just CHOSE to be evil,"  
"So we have an evil universe, an insanely happy universe, and this other one?" Stafford asked, "Wonderful! How about a universe where we're all women?"  
Jall shuddered. Wowryk merely looked thoughtful.  
"There are an infinite number of realities," Fifebee said, "Each with its own characterizes. We seem to have found one where many of the people considered 'misfits' in our own society lead extremely successful lives,"  
"Success is measured only by happiness," Noonan droned.  
"We're happy!" Yanick declared firmly. She paused and looked around, "Right?"  
T'Parief gave a grumble of displeasure.  
"In any event," Stafford stood, "We're going to get K'Eleese and get away from these strange people!"  
"Right," Jall nodded.  
"Commander Noonan," Stafford turned to his first officer, "The other Stafford is leaving your counterpart, Kelsey? Right, well, he's leaving her in a runabout to keep the portal open. I want you there too. Your priority is to keep that portal open at all costs,"  
"Understood," Noonan replied. If he was cheered by the prospect of spending more time with his counterpart, it didn't show.  
"So I should get ready to drive us though the glowing hole thingy?" Yanick asked.  
"Yeah. There's just one small problem," Stafford sighed.  
"Aye?" Jeffery leaned forward.  
"Somebody," Stafford rolled his eyes towards Yanick, "Invited them for dinner,"

Captain's Log, Supplimental.  
"We've followed Silverado-2 through the portal to their universe. So far, it looks pretty much the same as ours. Commander Noonan and Lieutenant Noonan have stayed behind in the runabout Asessippi to monitor the portal and ensure we have a way home when we're finished here,"  
"We've set course to a small planetoid near the Klingon border, where our counterparts believe K'Eleese has a manufacturing facility. They don't know what she's making, or if she'll even be there, but they were on their way to check it out when they were attacked, so it's probably important,"

"I want everything to be perfect," Stafford said firmly.  
"Oh, really?" Patsy Horton asked, adjusting her large platter-hat. The manager of 'Le Plateau Argente', Horton was the Guinanco manager on Silverado and thus responsible for all social gatherings held in the ship's converted mess hall.  
"I had actually simply planned to serve them tropical fish on a stick," Horton said in her clipped British , "Or perhaps arrange a mass food-fight?"  
"I thought Guinanco employees were to give full respect to customers at all times?" Stafford said tiredly.  
"Guianan, in her infinite wisdom, has relaxed some of those guidelines," Patsy said, "It has been found that some starship captains do not respond well to proper manners,"  
"Look, you're the restaurant manager, I'm sure you can figure something out," Stafford said.  
"Of course, sweety," Patsy said, "I promise you, it will be fabulous! My counterpart from Silverado-2 will be arriving any moment to help with the preparations,"  
"I'm out of here then," Stafford said, moving towards the door, "one of you is enough!"  
"Hello, Captain," Stafford turned to see Steven standing in the door.  
"Heya, Steve- HOLY SHIT!" Stafford shouted and jumped back.  
Steven was clad head to toe in the flowing robes of a Guinanco employee, including a hat so wide he had to tilt his head to fit through the door.  
"Tell me you're from the other ship," Stafford wheezed.  
"He is," Patsy smiled, "I say, that other vessel sounds like it really is quite fantastic! Did you know they have 3 different Guinanco establishments? Really!"  
"Carry on," Stafford forced out as he squeezed past Steven-2 and out of Horton's small office.  
He walked briskly out of the restaurant, known to the crew simply as 'Platterhead's' (nobody wanted to learn the French necessary to say Le Plateau Argente). He passed the Steven from his universe, the Guinanco-hating lounge manager, on his way out.  
"Don't go in there," Stafford called over his shoulder, "Just trust me, it's better that way,"  
Looking confused as Stafford disappeared down the corridor, Steven eyed the door for several moments before turning and walking quickly back to Unbalanced Equations.

"Shouldn't we be getting ready for our mission?" Jall-2 asked as he adjusted his dress uniform for the umpteenth time, "Going over mission objectives, arranging security teams, preparing contingency plans?"  
"C'mon, Jall," Yanick-2 said playfully, "All work and no play make Jally go crazy!"  
"Don't call me Jally," Jall-2 said darkly, then cracked a smile, "Trishykins,"  
"You two are making me sick," Stafford-2 shook his head, "Yanick, why don't you go get a real boyfriend so you can stop hanging around with this freak?"  
"Something about the unattainable, I guess," Yanick-2 gave a theatrical sigh, "He's just so manly!"  
"Maybe you'll have better luck with his twin brother over there," Stern-2 said dryly.  
"I think Jall has a better chance of getting lucky with him," Stafford-2 mused. He grimaced, "Wow, I just totally lost my appetite,"  
"Me too," Wowryk-2 agreed.  
"Me three," echoed Stern-2.  
"I hadn't thought of that," Jall-2 said, an evil gleam in his eye.  
"Gentlemen," Jeffery-2 said, "if I may draw your attention to the lovely Miss Noel Wowryk…"  
Jeffery gestured broadly as Wowryk, all smiles, turned this way and that, displaying her feminine curves, not entirely hidden by the white dress uniform.  
"Thanks, bud," Stafford-2 said.  
"Er,yeah, thanks," Stern-2 agreed.  
"Ok, enough ogling my girlfriend," Jeffery-2 said, "Let's get going,"

Stafford guided the group from Silverado-2 from the transporter room to the mess hall. His counterpart had made a few condescending comments over the fact that Stafford's crew wasn't wearing dress uniforms, but Stafford had shrugged them off, claiming that he didn't dress up to eat with himself.  
Entering the restaurant, Stafford had to fight to repress a gleam of pride in Patsy Horton. Running down the center of the room was a single, long table. Its translucent surface pulsed with soft blue and red colours, some hidden technology giving the table the appearance of a faintly glowing warp core. Flawless china and crystal had been set out, along with several tasteful centerpieces. At each place setting was a cloth napkin carefully folded into the shape of a swan. The remaining tables had been pushed to the edges of the room and covered with plants from the arboretum.  
The first snag accrued shortly thereafter.  
"Do you mind if we trade places?" the lovely blond woman Stafford-2 had introduced as Elaine asked Fifebee. Fifebee had been seated next to Stafford-2.  
"I see no reason not to," Fifebee replied amicably.  
"Thanks," Elain smiled, "I'd really rather sit close to my husband,"  
There was a tinkle of broken glass as Stafford's wine glass fell to the floor.  
"Husband?" he squeaked.  
"Married 2 years," Stafford-2 said proudly, "Oh," he looked sheepish, "Sorry. I was trying not to rub it in…"  
"Sorry, handsome," Elaine said, smiling at Stafford.  
"No problem," Stafford said, a bit too cheerfully. Under his breath, he muttered, "Yeah. No problem that YOU have the perfect ship and the perfect wife and the perfect ability to throw it all in my face,"  
Further down the table, Jeffery and Wowryk-2 were conversing.  
"So," Jeffery pressed, "This romantic vacation you took my counterpart on. Did anything, uh, happen?"  
"Mr. Jeffery," Wowryk-2 said, a sly smile on her face, "It's really not proper of you to ask me that,"  
"I agree," Wowryk growled.  
"We had a good time," Jeffery-2 added, smiling at Wowryk-2 as he took her hand and kissed it. Wowryk-2 giggled.  
Awkwardly, Jeffery reached out to take Wowryk's hand, only to miss as she reached for her wine.  
"So," Jall-2 asked his counterpart, "What did you do to get demoted anyway?"  
"Fun stuff," Jall was still evasive on that topic.  
"He slept with an Admiral's offspring," Yanick offered.  
"Really?" Jall-2's eyebrows shot up, "Not Ensign Teker?"  
Glaring at Yanick, Jall nodded.  
"Hmm," Jall-2 said thoughtfully, "I always wondered what would have happened if I'd taken him up on that offer," he chuckled, "Good thing I had the sense to say no!"

"Our main course today is a lightly spiced filet de baveron in a wonderful Rigellian dusek sauce," Patsy Horton announced pleasantly as her waiters started placing plates of food in front of her diners, "We also have a variety of delightful side dishes, which our waiters will be coming around with momentarily. Enjoy!" She bowed, the wide brim of her Guinanco hat blocking the view from an entire window, before leaving.  
"I like her," Jall-2 said, "she has much better taste than Steven does,"  
"Maybe so," Jall countered, "But at least Steven has personality. At least in OUR universe he does,"  
"Be silent and eat," T'Parief grumbled from next to Jall. He speared his filet with one claw and proceeded to rip it in half with his sharp teeth.

Dinner went fairly smoothly from there on, and Stafford had dared to hope that the evening wouldn't be a complete disaster. Up until he led the Silverado-2 group into Unbalanced Equations.  
"YOU SELL OUT!" Steven snarled, ignoring Stafford's shocked expression and stalking towards his counterpart, grabbing him by the front of his Guinanco robes, "YOU WORK FOR THAT NO-CLASS COMPANY?"  
"Guiananco is a first rate corporation," Steven-2 chocked as he pulled himself free of his counterpart's grip.  
"THEY PUT HARDWORKING PEOPLE LIKE ME OUT OF BUSINESS!" Steven roared.  
"You could always work for them," Steven-2 said.  
"Look, Steven," Stafford said, standing up, "Could you please save it for another time? We're in the middle of-"  
"Hey," Stafford-2 cut in, "Where did Commander Stern go?"  
"He's a f**king sell-out!" Steven snapped.  
"I told you that story in confidence," Jall hissed at Yanick, "That means you don't repeat it!"  
"I hope we didn't make him feel bad," Elain commented to Stafford.  
"You're so beautiful," Jeffery-2 said, giving Wowryk-2 a quick but deep kiss.  
Jeffery downed his glass of scotch, slamming it to the bar hard enough to shatter the fancy glass stem.  
A dozen voices rose into a babble of complaints, accusations and objections.  
"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" Stafford and Stafford-2 hollered together. Silence fell.  
"You," Stafford pointed at Steven, "Calm down. Now. You," he pointed at Steven-2, "Back to your ship. Now!" he turned to his counterpart, "Now, how about we get something to drink?"  
Still grumbling, Steven fought to put his pleasant 'bartender face' back on as he started mixing drinks for the group of twins. It soon became obvious that there was another strong difference between the two universes: The Silverado-2 crew had less practice at holding their liquor.  
"Where'd Stern go?" Stafford-2 wondered again, wandering aimless around the room, "For that matter, where'd my wife go?"  
"I dunno," Jall shrugged, "I don't remember seeing the big tall guy, or the funny blond lady."  
"Hey! Chris!," Stafford-2 shouted to Stafford, "I can't find my Security Chief!"  
"Well, YOU figure that one out!" Stafford snapped, falling back into his chair.  
"Computer! Where is Commander Stern?" Stafford-2 demanded.  
There was a hum as he disappeared into a swirl of transporter sparkles.  
The Silverado-2 officers jumped to their collective feel and started to protest.  
"Sylvia!" Stafford said, exasperated, "Bring him back, PLEASE!"  
"Do I have to?" Sylvia asked, "He's a prick,"  
"Yes, you have to!"  
"Fine,"  
Stafford-2 reappeared.  
"OK," Stafford turned to his shocked counterpart, "Her name is Sylvia, not 'Computer', and say 'please' and 'thank you' or you'll piss her off!"  
Stafford-2 looked like he wanted to say something, but instead collected his dignity and spoke.  
"Sylvia? Please tell me where Commander Stern is," he said.  
"Of course," Sylvia promptly responded, "Was that so hard? Your Commander Stern is with our Lieutenant Stern, in his quarters,"  
"What the hell is he doing there?" Jall-2 demanded.  
"Let's go," Stafford-2 said, grabbing Jall by the arm and marching out the door,"  
"I wonder if he realizes he has the wrong Jall," Jall-2 wondered aloud.  
"Serves him right," Stafford grumbled. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sauntered over to the windows. Frowning, he withdrew his hand. A small piece of paper had been in his pocket, the words 'Your quarters, now," written on it.  
"Interesting," Stafford mused.

Stafford-2 and Jall arrived on the junior officer's residential deck.  
"C'mon Jall," Stafford-2 said, still tipsy, "Let's go get our security dude back,"  
"Uh, right," Jall shrugged. Hey, if this guy wanted to think he was first officer of a Sovereign-class ship, who was he to object?  
They reached the door to Stern's quarters.  
"Stafford to Stern," Stafford-2 tapped at his comm. No answer.  
"Jall to Stern," Jall tried. No response.  
"Let's just open this door then…" Stafford-2 starting tapping his security clearance into the computer, certain that both he and his counterpart would have chosen the same code: the model number of their first shuttlepod.  
The doors slid open, revealing both Sterns. They were, to be polite, out of uniform.  
"Oh God," Stafford-2 gasped, stepping back from the door. Jall didn't move until Stafford-2 grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away, allowing the doors to slide silently shut.  
Several silent moments passed.  
"Did you know he was-" Stafford-2 started.  
"No," Jall cut him off, shocked.  
"Do you think they saw us?"  
"No," Jall said, starting to chuckle as he headed back to Unbalanced Equations.  
"I never would have guessed," Stafford-2 went on, still shell-shocked, "I mean, he's a security guy! He seemed so, um, not that way! No offense or anything."  
"Huh?" Now it was Jall's turn to be surprised. He'd always been fairly discreet, and even Yanick had gone at lengths to keep his off-duty activities secret from the rest of the senior staff.  
"Y'know," Stafford-2 went on, "I didn't think he was one of, uh, y'know. A guy like you,"  
Clearly the Jall from Silverado-2 hadn't bothered to take those precautions. And yet Stafford-2 still respected him enough to keep him as First Officer.  
"You learn something new every day," Jall said dryly.

Stafford stepped carefully into his quarters. The lights were on low and music was playing softly in the background.  
Gulping, Stafford moved through the living area, passing his cluttered dinner table as he moved from his 'dining room corner' over to his 'living room corner'.  
Somebody was in his bedroom.  
Peeking through the door like a lost little boy, he found a slim and supple female form spread comfortably over his bed.  
"Hello, handsome," Elain said, her voice oozing seduction.  
"Uh, what are you doing here?" Stafford asked.  
"Three guesses!" Elain said, jumping off the bed and tackling Stafford, sending them both to the floor.

Jeffery approached Wowryk as she looked out the windows of Unbalanced Equations. Silverado-2 was visible to one side as the larger ship kept pace with Silverado. She stiffened as an arm wrapped around her waist.  
"Hey, beautiful," Jeffery breathed in her ear.  
Wowryk pulled away, catching the scent of whiskey on his breath.  
"Simon, please. We're in public," she said coldly.  
"So?" he asked, "That doesn't bother the others!"  
"It bothers me!" Wowryk replied.  
"Are ye ashamed of me?" Jeffery asked, "Are ye ashamed that we're together?"  
"Of course not," Wowryk said, "I just-"  
Jeffery moved to kiss her.

"Uh, oh," Gibson muttered to Yvonnokoff, "Looks like somebody's about to get his face beat in,"  
Yvonnokoff turned just in time to see Wowryk push Jeffery away.  
"I will NOT engage in this public display of affection!" she snapped.  
"And Ah won't hide what we have together!" Jeffery shot back.  
"Have together?" Wowryk turned and turned to leave, "We'll see just what we 'have together'!"  
"I am so proud of her," Yvonnokoff smiled, "Zhat is months of therapy at work!'  
"You kidding, Vonna?" Gibson chuckled, "She ripped him apart!"  
"Jas," Yvonnokoff said, "But she used her words, not fists. Is great progress!"

"Noel," Jeffery said angrily, grabbing Wowryk by the arm, "Kiss me. Now!"  
"How dare you!" Wowryk snapped, "You can't tell me what to do!"  
"Oh no?" Jeffery shot back, "Isn't that what the Bible teaches? That women are inferior and have to do what the man says? Do we stone Yanick to death if she ever cheats on T'Parief? If we have a daughter, should Ah sell her into slavery when she turns 13?"  
Wowryk was speechless.  
"Ah can read!" Jeffery snapped, "Ah can read well enough to know that yer not half as perfect as ye think you are! If ye can eat pork and ye can disrespect men ye can damned well give me a kiss!"  
"Jeffery," Wowryk's voice was calm. Very calm. Dangerously calm, "Stop. Now."  
"Why?" Jeffery exploded, "Because yer too scared of what might happen if ye just for one second did something to show that ye loved me?"  
"If that's your definition of love," Wowryk said, "Than maybe I don't,"  
Jeffery was shocked.  
"That's it then," he said, "Ye thought we could go out and be together but that ye'd never have to physically love me?"  
"Not before marriage!" Wowryk snapped. People around them were staring.  
"Ah'm talking a kiss here!" Jeffery said, "A single, innocent kiss!"  
"No," Wowryk said, "You have no right to make me,"  
Jeffery straightened.  
"Then go," he said, "But don't plan on coming back until yer ready to show that yer serious,"  
Wowryk went.

T'Parief was getting drunk. Really, really drunk.  
Not that it took much for him anyway. Even with his large mass, it didn't take much to knock him flat on his face. He sat in his chair, looking out the window as the stars streaked past and shrunk into the distance.  
"Heya handsome," Yanick smiled as she settled down on T'Parief's lap, oblivious to the Wowryk and Jeffery show taking place at the other end of the room, "Penny for your thoughts?"  
T'Parief regarded her for a moment; seeing her first as a fragile blond human, then as the tough but still blond farm girl that had aroused his deep affection.  
"I have not seen the Captain in some time," he said.  
"Yeah, I can't find Jeffery either, Pari," Yanick frowned, "The other Jeffery was looking for his Noel, and got me mixed up with his Trish, and thought I'd know where his Noel is, so then we went to find our Noel, but she didn't know either,"  
T'Parief marveled at her lung capacity.  
"This is getting really confusing," Yanick finished.  
"It certainly is," T'Parief mused.  
They sat in silence for several minutes.  
"Tell me what's wrong," Yanick said softly.  
T'Parief said nothing.  
"T'Parief," Yanick abandoned her use of his nickname, "You've been all strange since this whole thing started. I want to help you-"  
"I don't need help!" T'Parief cut her off.  
"Or at least understand you," Yanick finished.  
T'Parief was quiet.  
"There can be no doubt that I was created as a weapon," he said finally, "The presence of the 'Sobeks', my lack of a counterpart, it all points to Slezar wanting to create something more than just spawn,"  
"What would your mother say about that?" Yanick said after a moments thought.  
His mother?  
"She often spoke of how badly she wanted children," T'Parief admitted, "But that does not change the fact that Slezar used her, utterly and completely,"  
"At least you're 50/50," Yanick shrugged, "One loving parent, one mad-scientist,"  
"That is a remarkable insensitive thing to say," T'Parief growled.  
"And you prefer it that way," Yanick finished.  
"Er, yes," he admitted.  
"Is being a weapon, if that's the case, really that bad?" Yanick asked, "You love your job, you have friends and family. The Captain respects you," she moved her hand to T'Parief's inner thigh, "and I love you," she whispered softly.  
T'Parief stood suddenly, catching Yanick as she tumbled off his lap.  
"Come with me," he said.

Stafford returned to Unbalanced Equations just as T'Parief and Yanick were leaving.  
"Where were you?" Wowryk asked as he approached.  
"Er," Stafford blushed, "I was checking something in my quarters,"  
"I see," Wowryk looked at him oddly, "You look like you've been sweating. Was there a problem?"  
"Uh," Stafford craned his neck to look over the groups of people in the lounge. At the other entrance, he could see Stern and Stern-2 walking in, faces flushed and looking around nervously. But nobody who could come to his aid.  
"Um, no. No problem at all," Stafford said. Shrugging, Wowryk left the lounge.  
Anything else he might have said was lost as a strong arm spun him around and an equally strong fist struck him hard across the jaw.  
"That's for sleeping with my wife!" Stafford-2 said coldly.  
"I didn't sleep with-" Stafford trailed off as he saw Sylvia's hologram standing behind Stafford-2, "Ohhh…"  
"I'm sorry Chris," Sylvia shook her head sadly, "He asked where the two of you were. I had to answer truthfully. Although if you ask me, you're getting what you deserve-"  
"What's going on?" Wowryk burst back through the doors, "Are people fighting again?"  
She saw Stafford lying on the deck.  
"Oh. Just more testosterone poisoning, then," she flipped her hair over her shoulder and continued stalking towards her quarters.

"Sylvia, load program T'Parief 23-B," T'Parief ordered the holodeck control panel.  
"What do we say?" Sylvia asked.  
"NOW!" T'Parief snapped.  
"Well, I never-"  
"And disengage safety protocols," T'Parief cut her off.  
"T'Parief," Sylvia said, a note of concern in her voice, "I don't think-"  
"Authorization T'Parief Delta Gizzard Embargo," T'Parief snapped.  
"Safety protocols disengaged," Sylvia sighed, unable to refuse a command override, "Program complete,"  
T'Parief stalked through the doors, Yanick following him.  
"Where are we?" she asked, looking around. They were at the entrance to a cave. The sky was a sickly orange, the ground bare dirt, grey and bone-dry with only the occasional clump of hardy plant-life dotting the landscape. Down the slope from the cliffside in which their cave burrowed was a battle. Yanick could make see Klingons, a dozen of them, fighting each other with the long, two-handed and double-pronged swords known as bat'leths.  
"Wait here," T'Parief commanded. Feeling more than a little nervous, Yanick complied.  
"Sylvia," T'Parief snapped, "This program is supposed to include a Pari-leth,"  
"So it is," Sylvia sighed, "I give up,"  
The Pari-leth, designed by T'Parief's mother, Klexish, for her eldest son, bore a striking resemblance to a bat'leth. The hand grips were larger and further apart, to better fit T'Parief's large hands. The sword itself was half again the length of a bat'leth, with 3 prongs at each end rather than two. If only she could have used a name that didn't include his hated nickname…  
Unleashing a roar of fury that sent Yanick jumping back, T'Parief charged the fighting soldiers.  
He slashed the first Klingon he saw, the razor-sharp blade cleaving the warrior in two across the stomach, blood and bodily fluids spraying onto the ground. Spinning to gain momentum, T'Parief brought his weapon up higher and sliced the second soldier/s head clean off his body.  
Recognizing the new foe, both groups of fighting warriors converged on the larger reptile.  
Blocking blows from two soldiers, T'Parief pushed back on his opponents' weapons with enough force to knock them backward off their feet. His moves where quick and effective, his customary clumsiness evident only by a slight wobble as he pivoted to slash another attacker across the throat.  
Throwing his pari-leth aside, there was an almost audible 'snick' as his claws slid out of their sheaths. Roaring again, he slammed the heads of two Klingons together so hard one could hear the crunch of bone. Spinning around, he raked his claws across the torso of another holographic warrior.  
In less than two minutes, it was over.  
Panting, he climbed back up the slope to where Yanick was watching, a look of abject horror on her face. He had several minor slashes from strikes that had almost connected, shiny streaks where other attacks had been deflected by his tough hide. Blood dripped from his claws and was splattered across his face like war paint.  
"Do you still love me?" he rasped.

End

Next: Things start to heat up as Silverado and Silverado-2 find K'Eleese's hidden base. What will they find? What vile plot has K'Eleese come up with? What's Noonan going to do stuck in a runabout with a lovely young woman? Ick, that's disgusting! They have the same name for crying out loud! Find out the REAL answer in two weeks with Star Traks, Silverado: Nobody's Perfect, Part Three!


	17. Nobody's Perfect - Part Three

Copyright 2005

Star Traks: Silverado

2.17 "Nobody's Perfect – Part 3"

Track A

Personal Starlog, July 25th 2172,

"With the end of the Xindi threat and the strengthening of Earth's alliance with the Andorians, Starfleet Intelligence has finally started shifting assets back to Earth. I understand the need to be keeping an eye on what's going on there, for sure, but between nearly 2 years of prep work on Titan Base and several months on Columbia now, it'll be very good to be home.

Lieutenant Matthew Noonan let out a deep breath as he stepped out of the cramped shuttlepod that had delivered him to the surface of the planet Earth. His rank with Intelligence didn't give him enough pull to get a ride all the way to the home he had once shared with his fiancé, in the city of Montreal, but it at least took him to the Intelligence offices in Toronto. The Montreal home would be empty anyway. 6 months ago he'd received a tearful message from Amber, telling him that she just couldn't be with a man who was away for so much of what was supposed to be their life together.  
While Starfleet Headquarters had been firmly established in San Francisco, it was felt by Admiral Ryn of Intelligence that it would be foolish for the high-security branch of Starfleet to establish only one office. Intelligence offices had been scattered across the solar system; in the old capitol cities of Earth, the base on Titan and the colonies on Mars.  
Now that his stint on the starship Columbia was finished, he could finally get back to his real work.

"Welcome back, Lieutenant," Commander Ali extended his hand. Noonan shook his commanding officer's hand firmly and settled into the seat behind the desk.  
"So," he asked, "Any new information on our pale-faced friends?"  
"Eager to get back to work?" Ali chuckled, "I would have though you and Amber would be-"  
"Amber and I, aren't that close anymore," Noonan choked.  
Ali's smile faded.  
"I'm sorry to hear that," he said.  
"I can't blame her," Noonan sighed, "I couldn't expect her to wait around forever. She didn't even leave me a comm code or anything,"  
He cleared his throat.  
"Anyway, I've been away from this operation for too long,"  
"I agree," Ali said, sliding a padd over to Noonan.  
"Three more sightings in the past month," Ali said as Noonan flipped through still images of two men. One with bright green eyes, jet black hair and fine features. The other, caught in the middle of a laugh was staring directly at the camera, his blond hair flowing down his back and his bright blue eyes gleaming. Both men had the same ivory white skin.  
"This one knows he's being photographed," Noonan said, tapping the photo.  
"Given what we know about these creatures, that doesn't surprise us," Ali agreed, "They've had humans chasing after them for millennia, if the information unearthed in England is true-"  
"'Psychic detectives'," Noonan scoffed, "Please, this is the 22nd century! Give me a photo-imager and phase pistol any day,"

Present day

"Are you awake in there?"  
Commander Noonan jerked awake more violently than he had in decades. Which to him amounted to a slight jerk of his head.  
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant," he said calmly, "I was having the most unusual dream,"  
"I s-sure couldn't tell," Lieutenant Kelsey Noonan replied, a slight stutter in her voice betraying her nervousness, "I've never seen anybody fall into such a deep sleep. I w-was getting worried,"  
"There's no need for concern, Lieutenant," Noonan smiled, "Everything will be fine,"  
"D-do you really think so?" Kelsey looked out the windows of the runabout Asessippi. Directly ahead of them, the portal between two universes slowly pulsed to some unknown celestial rhythm. Every few moments, the runabout sent an energy pulse into the phenomenon, holding it open until Silverado could return from the strange parallel universe they'd ventured into. Both Noonan's had their reasons for being on edge; it was Commander Noonan's friends and shipmates who would be trapped in a strange universe if the portal closed. The portal also represented Lieutenant Noonan's way home.  
"Your crewmates are among the most intelligent and competent officers Starfleet has to offer," Noonan chuckled, "Mine, well. I'm sure between the two of them, the Staffords will succeed in stopping K'Eleese in an efficient and reasonable manner.

"Lieutenant Sikcee," Captain Christopher Stafford-2, commander of the Sovereign-class USS Silverado-2, hero of the Federation and all-around good guy said, "would you please tell my counterpart that he's being really immature about this and that we really need to start working together to plan our assault on K'Eleese's base?"  
Sikcee opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the captain on the viewscreen.  
"Lieutenant Fifebee," Captain Christopher Stafford, commander of the Ambassador-class USS Silverado, pain in Admiral Tunney's ass and worm in Starfleet's apple said, "would you please remind MY counterpart that he's the one who punched me out on my own ship!"  
Fifebee opened her mouth to relay that information, but was cut off.  
"Sikcee, tell that degenerate that HE was the one that slept with MY WIFE!" Stafford-2 snapped.  
"Fifebee, tell that jerk that it was HIS WIFE that slept with ME!"  
One would think that after 5 millennia of civilization, humanity would have learned to share, Fifebee transmitted to her counterpart via data-link transmission.  
Indeed, Sikcee agreed, Or that they would have learned the consequences of too much synthohol,  
"What reason would my wife have for sleeping with you? Stafford-2 snapped, not bothering to go through his holographic science officer anymore, "She has one of me, one's enough! Clearly, since you're a single loser, it was YOU that seduced HER!"  
"Clearly," Stafford scoffed, "One of you WASN'T man enough for her!"  
There was a truncated growl as Stafford-2 cut the transmission.  
Silence fell over the bridge.  
Lieutenant Jall was working his station with his standard level of dedication; not much, preferring instead to read the latest issue of 'Humanoid Male's Health'. Unlike Yanick he had the discretion to view the e-magazine on his panel where Stafford couldn't see. Yanick wasn't even on the bridge, having commed in sick. T'Parief was manning his station as silently as usual. Stafford had become accustomed to the alien's dark moods as of late. But the overnight addition of several shiny patches of scales, indicating recent medical treatment, combined with Yanick's absence had Stafford convinced something was up.  
Stafford took a moment to thank God that neither Jeffery nor Wowryk had duty stations on the bridge.  
The previous evening had ended not with one bang, but with two.  
Bang number one was Stafford-2's fist colliding with Stafford's face after learning that his wife had gone to Stafford's quarters for an illicit rendezvous.  
Bang number two was Dr. Wowryk's cautiously opening mind closing as her boyfriend insisted on a public display of affection.  
Comparing the Dr. Wowryk of two years ago to the Dr. Wowryk of yesterday turned up several big differences in Stafford's mind. His first meeting with Wowryk had ended in disaster as she attempted to introduce his head to a solid object in return for a rude comment he had made. Two years of living on Silverado had dulled her razor-sharp edges, her time with Jeffery (along with hours of therapy with Yvonnakoff) had lessened her strong dislike of the male gender and playing mother to little Luke had further revealed the beautiful, loving woman Noel could be.  
Could be.  
Stafford didn't have the nerve to go near Sickbay, but a quiet comm conversation with Nurse Veeeneman while Wowryk was in the medical lab revealed that the good Doctor had removed her holo of Jeffery from her office, dropped Luke off at the ship's Education & Child Care center and started organizing Sickbay to the last detail.  
Jeffery, on the other hand, had proceeded to drink himself silly, to the point where Steven had to call in security to remove the engineer from Unbalanced Equations.  
Stafford hadn't gone down to engineering either.  
He knew his counterpart was correct. In less than a day they would be at the planetoid that supposedly held one of K'Eleese's bases in this universe, if not her main headquarters itself. His mission was to apprehend the insane Klingon woman, a mission that happened to coincide with Stafford-2's opinion that since K'Eleese was a problem from his universe, he had a responsibility in helping to clean up the mess she'd made in the other universe; attacking cargo ships, harassing Federation and Klingon colonies and working to form a coalition of worlds for purposes unknown. Undoubtedly, she'd had enough time to fortify her position against attacks. Stafford and Stafford-2 were counting on the likelihood that she wouldn't be expecting more than 1 starship to come after her. She was, after all, a very minor threat. One woman against a Federation of several hundred planets. How much damage could she do?  
"Captain," Fifebee was frowning at her panel, "Have we sent any transmissions in the past day other than our updates to Starfleet?"  
"I dunno," Stafford shrugged, "Jall?"  
"Nope," Jall didn't even look at his panel.  
"Why?" Stafford asked.  
"There are indications that somebody transmitted a signal, then attempted to delete it from the communications logs before we passed through the portal," Fifebee replied.  
"Do we know where the signal was sent?"  
"Somewhere in the direction of unexplored space,"  
"So, in our universe then," Stafford clarified.  
"Yes,"  
"Then it wasn't our neighbors here," he stuck a thumb out in the general direction of Silverado-2, "Which means it can wait until later,"

K'Eleese skipped happily down the main tunnel of her base, code-named Ecstasy. Finally! Her new toy was arriving!  
Passing several Sobeks as they worked to expand and fortify her base, she caught sight of her partner in crime, Slezar.  
"Hey, Slezy, baby!" she called happily.  
Slezar turned to face her, his Gorn features looking almost cartoonish in the cheery bright lighting K'Eleese insisted on.  
"One of our cloning tanks has sprung a leak," Slezar stated without introduction.  
"Fix it," K'Eleese shrugged.  
"I did," Slezar replied, "But it does not change the cause of the problem: we are pushing our equipment too hard,"  
"You weren't saying that in the bedchambers last night," K'Eleese said with a sly smile, walking behind Slezar and dragging one hand around his bicep.  
"We are loosing too many warriors!" Slezar snapped, "Mostly due to your foolish attacks on Silverado! Now we have two Silverados chasing after us!"  
"Hey, honey," K'Eleese drew back to admire her nails, "I want the Silverado from our home universe crushed to dust. The second one just sort of got in our way,"  
"And what do you plan to do about it?"  
"I'm just SO glad you asked!" K'Eleese squealed, a wide smile splitting her Klingon features, "C'mon, it's right over here!"  
Turning, she rushed down a side passage towards one of the transporter bays.  
"C'mon! Hurry up!" K'Eleese was giddy as a school-girl, urging Slezar to accelerate his relaxed gait, "You are so totally going to love this! It is just so incredibly amazing!"  
Wondering again if the chance to fulfill his life's work was worth leaving his calm and reasonable wife for this lunatic, Slezar sped up slightly, eyeing the slight bounce of K'Eleese's breasts beneath her armor as she spun around.  
Finally, they arrived in the transporter bay, where two Sobek's were unwrapping a large crate.  
"We'll finish here," K'Eleese sang out.  
"Yes, K'Eleese," one of the Sobeks bowed before they left.  
Slezar sighed inwardly. The Sobeks based on the design used to create his son were fierce warriors, but they were far too obedient. Slezar had learned from the mistakes made with his prototype children and combined T'Parief's fierce body with the obedient and loyal minds of his younger children. The design worked well enough. For now.  
Still, he sometimes missed the arguments and defiance of his older spawn.  
"C'mon! C'Mon!" K'Eleese chanted, prying the top off the crate.  
Slezar looked inside. The device was unfamiliar to him, but appeared to be a beam emitter of some kind.  
"What is it?"  
K'Eleese gave another smile. There was nothing cheerful or happy about this one. This was a look of predatory satisfaction, with just a hint of madness.  
"The key to a happy victory!"

"OK, here's the plan," Stafford explained, pointing to a display panel. He and his counterpart had behaved civilly long enough to decide their next course of action, "We send in two operatives to scout K'Eleese's base and report back. We then use their intelligence to plan a crushing assault,"  
"When you say intelligence," Jall crossed his arms, "do you mean-"  
"I mean information brought back by our scouts, not their actual intelligence!" Stafford replied.  
"Oh, good," Jall feigned relief, "Cuz I figure you're probably sending T'Parief..." he trailed off, waiting for T'Parief to respond.  
T'Parief simply gave Jall a look of contempt and returned his attention to Stafford.  
"Er, yes," Stafford continued, "I was planning on sending Mr. T'Parief. You'd probably fit right in-"  
Fifebee winced.  
"I mean, you'd be harder to spot," Stafford quickly corrected, flushing, "I don't mean that you'd fit in, because you're a fine officer and the Sobeks are evil, you just happen to look a lot like them, which really works for us in this case. Er, not that I'd ever treat you differently due to racial characteristics-"  
"Nice recovery," Jall chirped, "Maybe you should make a beeping sound when you're going to back up like that. Y'know, warn rest of us?"  
"Makes sense," Jeffery said, "Unlike some people," he muttered under his breath.  
Further down the table, Wowryk ignored him.  
"Anyway," Stafford continued, "If you feel up to it-"  
"Do not insult my honour," T'Parief snapped, "I realize you don't have much experience dealing with loyal officers," he spared a hard look at Jall, "But I will follow your orders, regardless of my personal situation!"  
"Right," Stafford gulped, "Jeffery, get the ship ready for combat. I really doubt K'Eleese is going to respond well to diplomacy. Dr. Wowryk, I hate to say it, but you better get Sickbay ready for casualties. If we get boarded-"  
"I understand what the Sobeks are capable of," Wowryk said, "And if I ever need a reminder, I'll just ask Trish. I understand she's seen it first hand,"  
T'Parief bristled.  
"That is none of your business," he said.  
"I'm sorry," Stafford said, "Am I intruding on a personal problem here?"  
"It is not the Doctor's concern,"  
"It is my concern!" Wowryk objected, then turned to Stafford, "It's your concern to! You're Yanick's best male friend, and you-"  
"Look," Stafford cut her off, "This is a serious briefing. We're about to go up against a woman's who got away us two times out of three. We really don't have time for this," he stood to leave, "Carry out my orders. T'Parief, you and Commander Stern leave in 1 hour,"  
"Yes sir," T'Parief nodded and left. The others followed suit.

"She handles pretty well," Stern-2 explained, "But the seats are a little big for me,"  
Stern-2 and T'Parief were in the main shuttlebay of the Silverado-2, examining a Sobek heavy fighter they had disabled during the last attack.  
"Deflector shields and polarized hull plating, twin disruptor cannons, micro-torpedo launcher, maximum speed of Warp 4 and," Stern-2 opened the canopy, "seating for two,"  
"We are certain it has been properly repaired?" T'Parief asked, eyeing the craft warily. He'd already donned a replica of the uniform worn by the Sobek pilots.  
"Sure," Stern-2 assured him, "Jeffery, our Jeffery anyway, is an absolute genius at figuring out alien technology,"  
"Then let's go," T'Parief said, climbing into the pilot seat.  
"Er, I wanted to drive," Stern-2 objected.  
"I always drive," T'Parief said in a tone that left little room for argument.  
Stern-2 didn't take the hint.  
"Maybe in your universe. But on this ship, I drive," Stern-2 said firmly.  
"Did you and your counterpart have this argument last night?" T'Parief asked.  
Gulping (and blushing boiled-lobster red) Stern-2 climbed into the co-pilot's seat.

"They're off," Fifebee reported.  
"Now we wait?" Jall asked.  
"Yeah," Stafford sighed, "Now we wait,"  
Looking around the bridge, Stafford suddenly started feeling very alone. Without T'Parief's familiar presence at the tactical panel behind him he felt vulnerable; like nobody was watching his back. Without Yanick at the helm, the bridge was calm and quiet; no energetic exclamations or silly yet entertaining stories. Fifebee tapped carefully at her console, tracking T'Parief and Stern for as long as possible while Jall started arguing over the comm with somebody who had apparently locked himself in a bathroom. Noonan's seat was empty, leaving Stafford all alone in the command arena.  
"I'll be on the holodeck," he said finally.

Feeling restless, Stafford scrolled through the available holodeck programs, searching for something that would match his mood. Finally he selected a program for 21st century Toronto. He knew from experience that one could lose oneself wandering the city for hours, and he was more in the mood for the chaos and imperfection of the 21st century as opposed to the neat and clean 24th century.  
Chaos vs. perfection. Just like the two universes, he mused to himself.  
The holodeck doors opened onto the busy intersection of Yonge and Bloor. Picking a direction at random, Stafford started walking.  
After several moments of musing, he became aware that he was being followed.  
"You're really not handling this very well," Sylvia said bluntly, walking up behind him.  
"What are you doing here?" Stafford asked.  
"I'm worried about you," Sylvia said.  
"Oh, I'm just peachy," Stafford grumbled.  
"Feeling a little guilty, are we?"  
"Guilty?" Stafford shrugged, "Why should I feel guilty?"  
"You slept with your wife?" Sylvia frowned, "Hmm, that doesn't sound very wrong, does it? How about 'You slept with your twin brother's wife'?"  
"We were drunk and it was her idea," Stafford snapped, defensive.  
"Why would you do something like that, Chris," Sylvia pressed, "Honestly? I really thought you knew better than that,"  
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I disappoint you, 'Mom'?" Stafford turned away and started walking down the street.  
"What would your real mother say?" Sylvia called.  
Stafford stopped.  
"Why don't you tell me?" he snapped.  
"I don't have to," Sylvia said, "I think you know perfectly well what she'd say. And I think you'd agree with her,"  
"What do you want?" Stafford said, "You want me to say it was wrong? Fine, consider it said. It was wrong. I know it," he stopped, collecting his thoughts, "It just made me so angry to see them together!"  
"Why?"  
"It like, what's wrong with me?" Stafford started pacing, holographic characters moving around him as they went about their imaginary business, "I'm the same guy as he is! Sure, he's a lot better at what he does, but he has the same wants, desires, interests and quirks as I do. Why is that he's found the perfect wife while I've spent the past two years alone? What makes him so f**king SPECIAL!" Stafford's voice rose to a roar as he drove a fierce kick into a garbage can, spilling its contents into the street.  
"I see," Sylvia crossed her arms, "So the best way to equalize this is to help his wife cheat?"  
Stafford shook his head.  
"I was a curiosity to her," he said, "She had a one-of a kind chance, y'know? Try something new without really trying something new. I can't really understand why that would be worth cheating, but for some God-damned reason I didn't care,"  
"You knew when you became a starship captain that it would probably mean a very lonely life," Sylvia said softly.  
"That didn't stop him," Stafford replied.  
"And it doesn't have to stop you," Sylvia replied, "But I think you need to get over this need. You have friends on this ship-"  
"Friends?" Stafford scoffed, "I've got Yanick and Jeffery-"  
"And Noonan, T'Parief and Fifebee," Sylvia's face rose in a half-smile, "Even Jall,"  
"I am NOT friends with Jall!"  
"I disagree," Sylvia said, "You work together, you hang out in the same bar, you see him frequently and at some level you care about what happens to him,"  
"He's a colleague," Stafford said sharply.  
"If he had a personal problem that you could solve, would you help him?" Sylvia asked.  
"I wouldn't want to," Stafford said, "I'd rather eat dirt! I'd rather-"  
"But you'd do it," It wasn't a question.  
"Yeah," Stafford sighed.  
"You people have been working together longer than I've been alive," Sylvia said, putting a hand on Stafford's shoulder, "which, granted, isn't all that long. I think you need to spend more time with the people you do have in your life and less time longing for something you don't have,"  
Stafford took a deep breath.  
"I don't WANT to spend that much time with people," he said, "I'm perfectly happy doing things on my own,"  
"Are you?" Sylvia asked, "or is that just an excuse?"  
Stafford said nothing.  
"Think about it," Sylvia advised, "But onto another topic: You're neglecting a very important part of your duty,"  
Stafford rolled his eyes.  
"Is this about going to the holodeck while T'Parief and Stern-"  
"Risk their lives?" Sylvia finished for him, "Of course not. There's nothing you can do to help them right now. No, I'm talking about the way you've been handling your crew problems lately,"  
"Problems?" Stafford shrugged, "I'm the Captain. Yvonnokoff is the counselor!" Sylvia followed Stafford into a Starbucks as he stepped in and ordered a coffee, "Yvonnokoff has more than enough time to deal with crew problems right now; we can't exactly broadcast her show from another universe," he stopped and looked over at Sylvia, "Can we?"  
"No," Sylvia shook her head, "But that's not the point. It goes back to the 'friends and colleagues' thing we were just talking about," she looked Stafford straight in the eye, "Some of these people are hurting, and you're not doing anything about it!"  
Stafford said nothing.  
"When has Yanick ever called in sick?" Sylvia said sharply, "You know damned well she's been in her quarters all day, crying her eyes out!"  
"Er, did you use the internal sensors to find that out?"  
"No!" Sylvia snapped, "Just a dose of common sense!"  
"I don't even know what happened to her!" Stafford objected, "How am I supposed to help?"  
"Just a thought," Sylvia put her hands on her hips, "But you could start by asking her what happened, hmmm?"  
"Oh. Er, right."

"Sobeck-42 you are cleared for landing," the harsh voice spoke over the comm, "Standby to receive approach vector and homing beacon frequencies,"  
"Confirmed," T'Parief rasped back. He tapped the oversized controls on the navigational computer, inputting their new heading and noticing how much more comfortable these controls were compared to the touch pads on Silverado. Almost like they were custom made for him. Which they practically were.  
"What's your plan for explaining me?" Stern-2 asked from the copilot seat.  
"I don't" T'Parief said simply, "You stay here and watch the ship while I take a look around,"  
"Those aren't our orders!" Stern-2 objected.  
"Our orders," T'Parief replied, "Are to learn about K'Eleese's base. I will blend in. You will not. End of discussion,"  
"I am not going to-"  
"You are. Or I will have to hurt you," T'Parief snapped.  
"How about this," Stern-2 suggested reasonably, "I'll stay here while you look around. If you see other humanoid-types wandering around, it'll be safe for me to join you,"  
T'Parief was quiet for a moment.  
"The problem with you alternate people is that you're all too willing to compromise," T'Parief said, almost a sigh, "It makes life less interesting,"  
"You mean less confrontational,"  
"It is the same thing,"

T'Parief walked confidently down the corridor leading from the landing bay, head held high and looking straight ahead. Rule number one of infiltrations: Look like you belong.  
It wasn't hard.  
After following the navigational beacon to a concealed docking bay, T'Parief had taken a brief moment to compose himself after looking out the window.  
He was everywhere.  
An exact copy of himself connected refueling lines to the ship as he dismounted, nodding crisply to T'Parief but not otherwise acknowledging him. Which was just as well, as T'Parief wouldn't trust his voice at the moment. Stern-2 remained in the cockpit as T'Parief quickly left the bay, choosing a corridor at random.  
Leaving the docking complex he quickly found his way to what appeared to be the hub of the base; a busy, ring-shaped corridor deep under the surface of the planetoid with Sobeks and other aliens moving in both directions. Discreetly manipulating the comm-badge in his pocket, he sent Stern-2 the message to join him.  
"Excuse me,"  
T'Parief turned to find himself staring into a face so similar to his own it could have been a mirror.  
"Y-yes?" he force out.  
"Are you Sobek-67? If so, I have been instructed to take you to weaponry indoctrination,"  
"Er, no," T'Parief replied, "I'm, uh, Sobek-42," he gave the number they had found in the fighters memory bank,"  
"Sorry," the other large alien shrugged his broad shoulders, "You'd think she would give us name tags or something,"  
"Indeed," T'Parief's mind was racing, "Er, I feel I could use a weaponry refresher, how could I arrange this?"  
"Was something wrong with your flash-imprint?" the other alien looked suspicious, "You're not…defective?"  
T'Parief didn't need any acting skills to look offended.  
"Of course not! I simply wish to kill as effectively as possible,"  
The Sobek laughed. It was a deep, hearty sound. The sound of his own laughter, which he so rarely heard.  
"Talk like that tends to attract K'Eleese," he chuckled, "Keep it up! Now, I must go,"  
Nodding, T'Parief resumed walking, pretending to be on his way somewhere.

Stafford composed himself at the door to Yanick's quarters, running through what Sylvia had said. Be sympathetic, but don't coddle. Listen, but ask questions to show interest. If the waterworks start, comfort. Don't freak.  
Blowing out a deep breath, he rang the chime.  
"Go away!"  
"Trish?" he cleared his throat, "Er, it's Chris,"  
The door hissed open.  
The place was a mess. Stafford could see half a dozen half-eaten bowls of ice cream scattered around. Blankets were piled on the couch and 'Monsters Inc.' was playing on the wall panel.  
Yanick was a mess. Her hair was tangled, her skin pale. Her off-duty cloths were wrinkled and smelled slightly.  
"Er, want to talk about it?" Stafford asked.  
Tears started pouring down Yanick's cheeks again. Hesitating for a moment, Stafford moved in to give her a hug. Gripping him back, Yanick choked out the whole story; how T'Parief had grown distant over the past week, how he had rejected her attempts to get physically closer to him and finally how he had made her watch while he committed horribly violent acts on the holodeck.  
"I've been so stupid!" Yanick said sadly as Stafford lead her to the couch, "I mean, how could I forget? I know what Klingons do. I know what Andorians do. I knew what he'd be capable of," her expression twisted as she pushed Stafford away, "I just can't believe he'd do that right in front of me! What an asshole!"  
"Um," Stafford composed his thoughts, thinking back to what Sylvia had said, "You can't forget Trish, he's hurting too. Look at what his father did! He's trying to come to grips with who he is-"  
"Who is he?" Yanick interrupted, "He doesn't even know!"  
"Right," Stafford replied, "Hence the whole 'coming to grips' thing…"  
"Oh," Yanick gave a weak giggle, "Right,"  
"I think you're on the right track," Stafford said, "Give him space, let him figure this out,"  
"And be there to welcome him back?" Yanick sighed, "If he even wants to come back!"  
"Sure he does," Stafford smiled.  
"Maybe I don't want him back," Yanick said, "Maybe I don't want to date a murderous brute!"  
"I guess that's something you'll have to figure out," Stafford shrugged, "Um, you might want to shower first though,"  
Yanick looked dismayed.  
"I smell bad?" she pulled away from Stafford, fresh tears spilling down her face, "Oh GOD! I'm DISGUSTING!"  
"Hey, hey," Stafford tried to sooth her, "It's nothing a sonic shower won't fix!"  
"Get out!" Yanick wailed, "Oh God, I've stank the whole time you've been here! Yuck!"  
"Trish," Stafford said, "I'm not leaving until you're cheered up!"  
An ice-cream bowl splattered against the wall less than a foot from Stafford.  
"OK, you're cheerful," he dashed for the door, "Meet me for a drink later?"  
The doors hissed shut.  
"Oh! And we need to you at the helm for the big battle!" he called through the closed panels, "That's an order!"  
"Very smooth," Sylvia's voice filtered down from the ceiling, "I can see you putting Yvonnokoff out of a job any time now,"  
"Shut up!"

Stern-2 soon joined T'Parief.  
"This place doesn't look that big" he murmured, "There can't be more than a dozen fighters, maybe 50 troops,  
"Plus the cruiser in orbit," T'Parief added.  
"Yeah, that," Stern-2 agreed. On the way in, they had passed a Vor-cha-class Klingon battleship. Impressive, powerful but not enough on its own to take out the two Federation starships.  
T'Parief was tapping at a terminal, discreetly placed in an alcove off the main corridor. He frowned.  
"What" Stern-2 asked.  
"This is a map of this facility," T'Parief pointed. On the display was the ring-shaped corridor with several different areas highlighted. Inside the ring was an education center for the 'flash-imprinting' the Sobek had referred to. Outside the ring were the landing pads and a small shipyards where two more fighters were being constructed.  
"There are no cloning facilities," Stern-2 said, "No command center, no medical bay and no crew accommodations,"  
"Yes, I noticed that," T'Parief growled.  
"What's this?" Stern-2 asked, pointing at a single corridor stretching off the screen.  
T'Parief zoomed the view out.  
And out.  
"Oh shit," Stern-2 muttered.  
The facility was huge. The section they had thought to be the base now filling only a single small corner of the screen.  
"I'd say we've found K'Eleese's headquarters," T'Parief said.

"Why did the targling cross the road?"  
"I don't know," Noonan replied, "Why did he?"  
"To escape the honorable blood-lust of the rampaging hunter," Lieutenant Kelsey Noonan replied.  
"You're right," Noonan said, "Klingons really don't tell good jokes,"  
They sat quietly in the cockpit of the runabout, watching the universal portal slowly spiraling in the front viewport.  
"Commander, I know this really isn't my business," Kelsey started.  
"Please, go ahead," Noonan gestured for her to continue,"  
"I get the feeling you know a lot more about what's going on with us than you've told me," Kelsey said.  
"Us?" Noonan tried to look innocent.  
"About why we're different in these universes," she took a deep breath, "I'm a woman with almost n-no experience. You're a First Officer who j-just happens to look exactly like an ancestor of mine with the same name. I'm not s-stupid. Y-you…you're a lot older than you look aren't you,"  
Noonan was quiet for a moment.  
"You must understand," he said, "My story is classified by Starfleet. Very deeply classified. Aside from that, most people really don't respond well to beings like me if they understand the entire truth,"  
"Beings like-" Kelsey's eyes lit up with realization, "You're not human?"  
"No," Noonan replied.  
"But you were," Kelsey looked amazed, "Something happened to you. Centuries ago! Something that didn't happen in my universe!"  
Noonan considered.  
The story of his origins was known only to the highest levels of Starfleet Intellegence. He was under strict orders not to share what he knew, orders that were centuries old. Even Stafford, a man he was coming to like and trust couldn't be trusted with his tale. Yet…  
Looking at Kelsey Noonan, Matt Noonan realized he was getting a very rare and very special insight into the universe that few beings were ever afforded. An answer to the question that haunts all beings at some point in their existence.  
What if.  
"Are you sure you want to know?" Noonan asked.  
"Tell me," Kelsey said, leaning forward.

Earth, 2173 – Track A:

Lieutenant Noonan sighed and took another sip from his Starbuck's Commemorative NX-02 collector's cup. He'd been on stakeout for nearly 4 hours in the city of New Orleans, waiting for his quarry to make its approach.  
He'd been tracking the two beings from Commander Ali's holo for over 8 months now, after trying one last time to contact Amber. He tried apologizing, tried telling her how important his Starfleet career was to him, but that he was on Earth now, to stay. It was time for him to leave the stars and come back to her, forever.  
She didn't buy it.  
Tearfully, she'd told him that there she'd moved on, that there wasn't a place for him in her life anymore and that he was going to have to learn to move on too.  
F**k that.  
He wasn't ready for a new woman in his life. Instead, he was ready to get back to his work.  
For 15 years now, Starfleet had been tracking the movements of unknown beings through the cities of Earth. Believing at first that the pale, mysterious apparitions were extraterrestrial in nature and potentially dangerous, Starfleet Intel had mustered dozens of officers in an attempt to uncover and confront them once and for all.  
What they'd found instead were a series of tales, clues and evidence that the beings had been around not for a few years, but for millennia.  
Sightings of the beings were rare, contact non-existence. As it became apparent that the threat posed by these creatures was minimal, other priorities arose and more and more officers were pulled off the case and assigned elsewhere. Noonan had been with the project for two years before being sent off on the newly commissioned Starship Columbia.  
Now he was back. And on the hunt.  
The two beings in the holo, Smiley and Grumpy he had nicknamed them, had appeared in more and more images lately. Ali had shown him dozens of different images, each of the same two creatures, one with flowing blond hair, blue eyes and a wide smile, the other dark-haired and melancholy. Always, the blond one, Smiley, was grinning right into the holo-lens, as though he knew he was being recorded.  
The frequent appearances had finally allowed Starfleet Intel to trace the beings movements and from there to track them to the city of New Orleans.

Present day, on Silverado:

Stafford paced back and forth in front of Sickbay, swearing that he could almost feel the waves of frigid iciness radiating from the doctor within.  
"I can see that your counseling techniques are so much more effective through a closed door," Sylvia piped up.  
"You know," Stafford snapped, "I would think that you would have dropped the tendency to stick your nose in my business when you finally convinced yourself that you're not my mother!"  
"Sticking my nose in other people's business has nothing to do with your mother," Sylvia sniffed, "It's just part of being a woman,"  
Refusing to argue that point, or point out that Sylvia had neither a nose nor woman parts, Stafford marshaled his strength and stepped into Sickbay.  
"Scalpel!" Wowryk snarled at Nurse Veeneman. The smaller blond woman rushed to grab a laser scalpel from the equipment cart and slapped the tool in the Doctor's outstretched hand.  
"Is there a problem?" Stafford asked, very politely.  
"Crewman Shwaluk here had a little accident!" Wowryk snapped, slicing into the patient's body and flinging the scalpel back on the tray, "Protoplaster!"  
"Er, what happened?"  
"He and his GIRLFRIEND were engaging in a DISGUSTING display of perversity-"  
"Bondage," Nurse Veeneman translated, "She had him strapped to a St. Andrew's Cross. She was a little rough with him, it came loose from the wall and landed on the coffee table. Dr. Wowryk is trying to get all the pieces of the table out of his chest,"  
"Found another!" Wowryk snapped, tossing a jagged piece of glass into a specimen jar as blood spurted a good foot in the air, "Arterial clamps! Veeeneman! I need a transfusion, stat!"  
"So," Stafford winced as he noticed blood dripping onto the carpet, "About Jeffery-"  
"Don't start!" Wowryk cut him off as she dug a chunk of plastic from Shwaluk's stomach, pointing it at Stafford, "I refuse to discuss him!"  
"He loves you!" Stafford exclaimed, "Can't you get that through your skull! He doesn't want under your pants-"  
"Yes he does," Wowryk and Veeneman said together as Wowryk started fusing Shwaluk's liver back together.  
"Ok, so he does," Stafford conceded, "But he'll wait as long as it takes! He just wants to touch you! To know that you love him back!"  
"And where does it stop?" Wowryk demanded, "First a hug, then a kiss, then I'm flat on my back being violated!"  
"Or strapping him to a cross and smacking his ass with a paddle," Veeneman gestured to Shwaluk.  
"Yeah," Wowryk snarled as she wrestled Shwaluk's left lung back into place, "And we can all see how well that worked out for this guy!"  
"So don't do any of that!" Stafford said, exasperated, "Give him a hug! Give him a kiss! Then leave it at that!"  
"Men aren't capable of that kind of restraint," Wowryk sniffed, shooting a fresh shot of drugs into Shwaluk's neck..  
"Oh yeah?" Stafford took a step closer, "I am going to hug you now,"  
"You wouldn't dare!"  
"I don't want in your pants. We do nothing but fight," Stafford took another step closer, "I don't want to make love to liquid nitrogen!"  
"How dare you-"  
Stafford hugged her, then stepped back.  
Wowryk was quiet for a moment.  
"See?" Stafford said, "All done,"  
Frowning, Wowryk ran a medical tricorder over Stafford's groin.  
"Not even aroused!" she said softly.  
"See? Just a platonic hug,"  
The monitors on the biobed started beeping.  
"Uh, Dr. Wowryk?" Veeneman interrupted, "The patient?"  
"Er, right," Wowryk turned back to Shwaluk, "Have a blessed day, Captain," she called over her shoulder.  
"Uh, right," Stafford looked down at his uniform, now streaked with Shwaluk's blood, "I'm just going to go change now.

"So," Stern-2 asked, "What now?"  
"Now," T'Parief said, "We explore the rest of the facility,"  
They left the terminal and found the main passage leading deeper into the huge underground base.  
Sobeks passed them on both sides, providing no challenge but merely nodding at T'Parief as he walked past. Nodding back, T'Parief could only assume they took him for one of them. And why not? It's not like he was a common species. Up until recently, he'd been unique.  
"There are no girls," Stern-2 said softly after a few moments.  
"Not that that would bother you," T'Parief murmured back.  
"I'm getting really sick of the gay jokes," Stern-2 said, "For all you know, I swing both ways!"  
Rolling his eyes, T'Parief replied.  
"Males are generally more aggressive, and thus make better soldiers," he explained, "I doubt K'Eleese and Slezar have any real need for women,"  
"That's bullshit and you know it," Stern-2 replied, "Women make excellent soldiers. They're less likely to let their aggression cloud the issue," he gave an evil grin, "And without them, you can bet that your duplicates here are resorting to homosexuality,"  
"Don't be ridiculous," T'Parief scoffed, "We are designed to be incapable of mating," realization dawned, "in fact, I suspect that is why my father included that modification when I was created. Troops who cannot mate cannot resort to that kind of behavior. Nor would they rape the women of the conquered, which is extremely dishonorable conduct for a Gorn soldier," he blinked, "Thank you, Commander. You have helped explain a mystery that has dumbfounded me for months,"  
"Before you get too pleased with yourself," Stern-2 said, "Remember that the Sobeks had that particular limitation removed,"  
"Oh," T'Parief slouched, "Well, it still applies to me, anyway!"

Earth, 2173, Track A:

On the verge of dozing off, Noonan forced himself awake as a single figure crossed the cone of light given off by a nearby streetlight.  
It was Grumpy.  
All traces of fatigue gone, Noonan pulled out his tricorder and immediately started scanning the creature. Metabolic readings for respiration and heart rate seemed normal, but there were strange energy readings present. Some kind of strange, psionic energy field.  
Grumpy continued walking past Noonan's aircar, apparently oblivious to the Starfleet officer. Noonan watched his movements very closely. He moved with a grace that was relaxed, fluid. He'd seen it once, while on safari. It was the grace of a tiger, a great hunter so confident powerful that it was almost casual in the way it moved.  
As soon as he judged the distance to be safe, he popped the ultra-quiet door latch and slipped out into the night.  
He followed Grumpy down into the narrow back street, then watched as he opened the gate to a small townhouse in the French Quarter. The main floor held an old-fashioned bookstore, while an apartment occupied the second floor. The rear garden was perfectly manicured. Pulling out his acoustic scanner, Noonan aimed the small device at the flat and listened carefully.  
"You're back," one voice, soft and pleasant. Smiley, perhaps?  
"I am," Grumpy replied, his voice every bit as melancholy as his expression had led Noonan to expect, "It is a beautiful night. I was in no hurry,"  
"Looking at the stars again, no doubt," Smiley's voice had darkened slightly.  
"They launched another NX-class starship yesterday," Grumpy said, his sad voice taking on a note of wonder, "I hear talk in San Francisco that the Fleet Yards are designing a newer, even larger starship-"  
"So they explore the oceans of space, as they once explored the New World," Smiley scoffed, "What do I care of it?"  
"Do you not wish to see what is there?" Grumpy asked, "To stand atop a truly new world?"  
"And how do you suggest we do that?" Smily asked, "I doubt there are rats on these precious starships of yours! Starving to death would complicate our trip somewhat!"  
"There's more," Grumpy said, "I've heard that they can now synthesize," he paused, "the blood. For medical transfusions and so forth,"  
Smiley seemed to pause at this.  
"The blood," he said softly, "but I doubt they can synthesize the life we need,"  
"Maybe not," Grumpy said, "but I wouldn't put it past them to learn," his voice took on a firm note, "Can't you imagine it? We could live without feeding on these poor humans! All the sustenance we could want, without causing so much as a scratch!"  
"Oh yes," Smily was defiantly scornful now, "You'd like that, wouldn't you,"  
"So would others," Grumpy grunted, "Including, no doubt, the Starfleet officer currently hiding in our garden,"  
Noonan started.  
"Yes, you," Noonan could see Smily now looking out the window, directly at him, "Yes. Hello, Matthew. Why don't you come in for a drink?"  
Noonan ran.

In the 24th century…

T'Parief continued to move through the huge facility, finding stockpiles of weapons, partially assembled fighters and massive storage rooms filled with food and medical supplies. Finally, they found the main chamber of the base.  
At the very top of the chamber, a good hundred feet above the floor, T'Parief could see what was clearly a command center. Lining the tiered sides were dozens of cloning tanks, each one holding a single Sobek in various stages of growth. Youths with bright green scales, adolescents with long, gangly limbs and the more familiar adults. Even as they watched, one tank opened, its cloning nutrients draining as the nude Sobek inside took its first unsteady steps into the world before being led to a flash-education center.  
And conduits. Dozens of them, hundreds of them. Carrying power, nutrients and God knows what else.  
T'Parief frowned. Most of the conduits fed into the cloning tubes, but many of the conduits led into the floor. Yet he was quite sure that the schematics had shown the main chamber to be the very lowest part of the base. Even the power reactors were higher above, well displaced from the base proper in case of accidents.  
"Something is not right here," he said to Stern-2.  
"Tell me about it," Stern-2 grumbled as he watched two Sobeks practicing unarmed combat in a windowed exercise room. They were fast, and even as he watched one threw the other into the wall hard enough to make the transparent aluminum rattle.  
"You have seen enough," T'Parief said, "Let's return to the fighter,"  
"Yeah, I agree," Stern-2 was relieved, "Hey wait, what do you mean 'I' have seen enough?"  
"I will remain here," T'Parief said, moving faster, "There are questions that still need to be answered-"  
"Look," Stern-2 said, "I'm sorry about your shattered childhood, but-"  
"Silence," T'Parief hissed as two more Sobeks moved by, "This has nothing to do with me! Something here does not add up! I will continue to investigate while you return to the ships. Tell them they must attack at once. Every moment wasted is another Sobek K'Eleese can throw at us,"  
"Understood," Stern-2 said, with only a slight hesitation.

"Any luck playing amateur counselor?" Fifebee asked as Stafford stepped out of the turbolift and onto the bridge.  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Stafford said as he settled into his command chair, "Any news from T'Parief and Stern?"  
Stern looked up from his tactical console.  
"The other Stern," Fifebee muttered to him.  
"No sir," Stern replied, blushing slightly, "No word. I would have commed you if there had been,"  
"Oh," Stafford slumped, "Right,"  
"Sir, Silverado-2 is hailing us," Jall reported.  
"On screen,"  
"Captain," Stafford-2 said coolly, "Sensors detect a ship heading our direction. One human life-sign,"  
"Fifebee?" Stafford asked.  
"It's there, trust me!" Stafford-2 snapped, "Our sensors are more sensitive than yours!"  
"Fifebee?" Stafford asked again.  
"Confirmed," she replied.  
"Where's T'Parief," Jall asked.  
"Exactly what I wanted to know," Stafford-2 said, "Why isn't your officer on that ship?"  
"How should I know?" Stafford shot back, "Maybe you should wait until the ship gets back so we can ASK them!"  
Stafford-2 vanished from the screen.  
"Wow, he's gotten rude," Jall commented.  
"So would you if your wife cheated on you," Stern said.  
"Belay that," Stafford said warily.  
"This raises an interesting question," Fifebee said thoughtfully, "is it really cheating if you sleep with a precise duplicate of your mate?"  
"Can we NOT have this discussion?" Stafford sighed, "Look, it was her idea, I was drunk, end of story!"  
"We're being hailed by the other Stern," Stern called out from tactical.  
"Thank God," Stafford muttered, "On screen!"  
The screen kicked into 'conference-call' mode, with Stern-2 on one half and Stafford-2 on the other.  
"Where's T'Parief?" Stafford asked at once.  
"He stayed to keep scouting the base," Stern-2 reported, "Sir, we've found K'Eleese's headquarters! Cloning facilities, training centers, troop barracks, everything. It's all here!"  
"Excellent," Stafford-2 replied, "Good work," he turned to Stafford, "Captain, please ready your ship for combat. We're going to confront K'Eleese."  
"Um," Stafford raised a hand.  
"What?"  
"Aren't you going to er, talk to her first?" Stafford asked.  
"Of course!" Stafford-2 replied, "She's a dangerous felon. We give her a chance to surrender, then we blow her to pieces if she refused,"  
"Fair enough," Stafford nodded, "But does this seem too easy?"  
"We've had to put up with you," Stafford-2 replied dryly, "How easy was that?"  
"But I mean, the base!" Stafford said, "I mean, you found it just like that! Doesn't it worry you that it wasn't better hidden? I think we should wait until T'Parief learns more before we go in,"  
"This search," Stafford-2 replied coldly, "Is the result of months of investigative work! Just because you came in at the last minute doesn't mean it was easy,"  
"Point taken," Stafford sighed, "We'll be ready,"

T'Parief accessed one of the base terminals long enough to see that Stern-2 had escaped unnoticed. Very unnoticed, T'Parief frowned to himself. Either the cruiser in orbit hadn't seen him, or it didn't care.  
He turned back to the passageway between the base central core and one of the docking facilities and fell in step with several Sobeks as they moved to and fro, intent on their duties.  
"Ohh! I can just HARDLY wait!" squealed an ecstatic voice.  
As casually as he could, T'Parief stopped at the next data junction that came up and pretended to pull up a duty roster. Looking out the corner of his eye, he saw her. K'Eleese!  
And Slezar.  
"I am sure you are very excited," Slezar said.  
"You have no idea!" K'Eleese said, clapping her hands together, "I've been waiting for this day for SO long!"  
Both were unchanged from when T'Parief had last seen them, on the planet Nisus. His father's scales were carefully polished and his silvery eyes glittered in the bright lighting. K'Eleese's braids had grown, reaching well past her shapely buttocks now and dangling nearly at knee level. She'd also added green ribbons and beads to her ensemble, giving her the look of a walking Christmas ornament.  
"How long will it take to install the device in the Jubilant Death?" Slezar asked.  
"A matter of minutes," K'Eleese waved one hand, unconcerned, "Once the Starfleet ships nearby have been converted to our cause, we will ensure that the member planets of the Convivial Confederacy are fully loyal to us as well,"  
"Member planets," Slezar scoffed, "You mean the disgruntled Klingon and Gorn colonies that are supporting you?"  
"Whatever works," K'Eleese snarled, "They support US, and that is good enough!"  
"Hmm," Slezar said, "for now,"  
They had almost reached T'Parief's position. He tried, very hard, to keep his eyes on the display panel, but when Slezar spoke again, he looked involuntarily over at his father.  
"It is fortunate we have this device," Slezar said, almost casually. Then he did something that T'Parief could never, throughout his entire youth, recall his father doing. Slezar turned and looked T'Parief right in the eye.  
And winked.  
"Neither Silverado will stand a chance," Slezar said. K'Eleese laughed as the two of them walked on, a phalanx of Sobeks guiding a crate on antigravs.  
T'Parief jerked his eyes back down to the console until the group had passed, then turned to follow.  
What did that mean? His father had winked. Which meant…what? That Silverado really DID stand a chance? Or did he really mean that Silverado DIDN'T stand a chance, and he wanted T'Parief to know it.  
But how did he know T'Parief was there at all? He was indistinguishable from the other Sobeks, and for all his father knew he should be in another universe. No, that wasn't right, was it. His father and K'Eleese clearly knew that there were two starships named Silverado almost at their doorstep. And they believed that whatever was in that crate would allow them to defeat both ships easily. Or at least K'Eleese did.  
T'Parief's mind went back to crunching one of many questions that had been on his mind since he learned that his father was working with K'Eleese: What was his father gaining? OK, so he had cloned hundreds of copies of T'Parief, something that his Gorn superiors apparently hadn't allowed, according to Lieutenant Jall. But what was his motive, his reason? An army of Sobeks was fearsome for ground combat, but most battles in the Alpha Quadrant were settled in space, between battling ships. Any race, even the Pakleds, could run a starship, given proper training. So why did Slezar need an army of soldiers?

"All hands to battlestations, Red Alert," Stafford-2 said calmly. The lights on the bridge turned red as his officers prepared the ship for combat.  
"Engineering," Lieutenant Day-2 said from Ops, "Portside deflector shields show a 2% variance, compensate,"  
"Confirmed," Jeffery-2 called back.  
"Programming priority targets," Stern-2 said from tactical. A display on his screen showed a 3D schematic of the planetoid, with ships, fighters and the cruiser being assigned target designations. Another screen had a close-in view of the cruiser, with weak points highlighted.  
In Engineering, Jeffery-2 had just given the order to activate the protective force field that would cushion the warp-core from damage.  
"Divert extra power to the integrity fields on the nacelle pylons," he ordered Ensign Frit Naketh-2, "We're going to be doing some rough maneuvers,"  
"Confirmed," Naketh-2 nodded.  
"Frat," Jeffery-2 called out, "How's that dynamic shield configuration going?"  
"It's running," Frat Naketh-2 replied, "The computer will analyze incoming fire and redistribute shield power accordingly,"  
"Good work,"  
In Sickbay, Dr. Wowryk-2 was the center of a storm of carefully controlled chaos.  
"Veeneman," she called, "I want odd-numbered teams on triage and trauma. Make sure they have comm-boosters and transporter beacons! If we take heavy damage, I want to be sure they can get our people to Sickbay! Kerry! The even-numbered teams are going to be doing emergency first aid in here until Dr. Ugkdeba or I can get to them. May God protect us!"  
All over the ship, crewman manned their battlestations, bringing systems to emergency status, preparing for damage control and ensuring that every part of the huge Soveriegn-class ship was ready to perform when called on, no matter how dire the emergency.

"Red alert!" Stafford called, "All hands to battlestations!"  
"Oh, here we go again," Sylvia groaned as the klaxon started to sound, "Please be CAREFUL this time! Every time I get knocked up it takes you people weeks to fix things!"  
Stafford felt his eyebrows raise.  
"Language usage correction," Sylvia cut back in, "Banged up. Damaged,"  
"Got it," Stafford said dryly.  
"Ensign Yanick, report to the bridge, immediately," Lieutenant Quintaine called over the comm. With Noonan guarding the road home, Stafford felt like he was half blind. Quintaine could manage the ship fine on the quiet night shift, but he'd never taken her into combat before. Not only that, he had Stern running weapons rather than T'Parief. Again, Stern was OK, but he just didn't bring the same enthusiasm to the job.  
"OK, guys," Jall called Engineering over the comm, "We're going dancing, and we're going to get our toes stepped on. Are the steel-toed boots ready?"  
"What in the name of-" Jeffery's voice cut off as he understood what Jall was talking about, "Oh. Aye, shields at 100%. And talk like a normal person in the future, ye bloody-"  
"Ensign Rengs!" Stafford called to one of the back-up officers standing by in the conference lounge, "run into my ready room and make sure my Silverado model is secured,"  
"Securing the Captain's toys, yes sir!" Rengs snapped as he sprinted through the doors.  
"Sir," Stern cut in, "Our phaser banks and the capacitor cells for the pulse phaser are fully charged," he frowned, "Uh, I think,"  
"You think?" Stafford demanded.  
"Um," Stern blushed, "I'm not really used to these controls. T'Parief almost never lets us play with his big gun,"  
Jall started laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.  
"OK people!" Stafford snapped, "We're going into a dangerous situation here! Time to get serious and do our jobs!"  
Everybody immediately turned to their stations and continued preparing the ship.  
In Engineering, Jeffery was tapping at his console.  
"Ships this old really shouldn't be getting into fisticuffs," he muttered, trying to strengthen the structural integrity field. He could hear Sylvia snapping orders to his staff, shoring up weak spots in the hull and tying docking thrusters into the maneuvering thrusters to increase the ship's mobility.  
In the after torpedo bay, Crewman Gibson and Crewman Roscoe looked at each other as they passed a lit doobie between them.  
"What are we supposed to be doing again?" Gibson asked.  
"Uh, getting torpedoes ready?" Roscoe suggested.  
"The only torpedo I see is the one in my pants!" Gibson chucked, gripping his groin.  
"Sick, dude!" Roscoe objected.  
On the bridge, Yanick came out of the turbolift, flashed Stafford an uneasy grin then slipped into the helm station.  
"Programming in evasive maneuvers," she said.  
"Nice to have you back," Jall said with a smile.  
"Well, I'm not about to let YOU drive this thing!" she said with a smile.  
"20 seconds to target," Jall said, "Getting an error from the aft torpedo bay,"  
"Torpedo bay!" Stafford snapped, "What's the hold up?"  
"Oh, huh-huh," Gibson chuckled over the comm, "No problem, we've got everything ready to go,"  
"Aft bay shows ready," Jall rolled his eyes.  
Stafford blew out a breath.  
"Take us out of warp," he said.

"Incoming!" Sobek-9 called from the helm, just as K'Eleese took her place in the command chair of the Jubilant Death, the Vor-cha-class cruiser given to her by a Klingon colony. On the screen, two Federation starships dropped out of warp and soared straight towards her planetoid.  
"K'Eleese to Sobek-26," K'Eleese said, "Are we ready to go down there, hmmm?"  
"We are, K'Eleese," came the reply.  
"Excellent," K'Eleese jumped up and clapped her hands, "Full power to the beam! Target the Silverado and prepare to fire!"  
"Which one?" Sobek-13 asked from the weapons console.  
"Good question," K'Eleese said thoughtfully, "How about both? But be sure to get the larger one. After all, sometimes size does matter!"

"Picking up a strange energy reading from the Klingon ship," Sikcee said, "I'm having problems identifying it,"  
"Why haven't they launched their fighters?" Jall-2 asked, eyeing the large Klingon ship on the main display.  
"A very good question," Stafford-2 wondered, "Day, any response to our hails?"  
"No sir," Day replied.  
"Why aren't they launching fighters," Stafford-2 mused, "They can't hope to defeat us with one ship, can they?"

"EMERGENCY EVASIVE!" Fifebee screamed.  
Yanick, without bothering to check with Stafford, jerked the ship away from the other Silverado, sending people on all decks staggering for handholds.  
"What the f-" Stafford managed to get out before he was flung from his seat.

"EMERGENCY EVASIVE!" Sikcee screamed.  
"Sir?" Yanick-2 asked.  
"Do it," Stafford nodded, "All hands, hold tight!"

Both ships broke off course, but Silverado-2 was several seconds behind her counterpart. Several very crucial seconds.  
A pale blue beam fired out from Jubilant Death's forward section. Silverado, having started to dodge as soon as the emitter powered up managed to squeak away, only her nacelles being caught in the beam.  
Silverado-2 on the other hand, had started to turn far too late and was hit dead center.

"Are they damaged?" Stafford asked, watching as Silverado-2 came to a stop, then came about alongside the Klingon ship.  
"I don't think so," Fifebee said, "That beam-"  
"We're being hailed," Jall said.  
The screen came to life, showing the bridge of Silverado-2.  
Stafford, Jall, Stern and even Fifebee gasped.  
Their counterparts were unharmed. But each had a large, goofy grin pasted on their faces. As they watched, Stafford-2 jumped up from his command chair.  
"Hey diddily-doe, Silverado!" he cried happily, "I'm Captain Chrissy-Wissy Staf-fun-ord of the Convivial Confederacy Funship Silver-hey-do! Surrender and prepare to be happy!"  
"Captain," Fifebee said, "I think we should leave. Quickly,"  
Stafford nodded, mouth working for a moment before he could speak.  
"Ensign Yanick, come about," he said, staring at his counterpart as he grinned insanely, "Maximum warp!"

End

Next on Silverado: Alone in a strange universe, Stafford and crew must find a way to rescue their counterparts, get T'Parief back, stop K'Eleese and a partridge in a pear tree. And what's going on with T'Parief, anyway? Find out in the final part of the Silverado Season 2 finale!


	18. Nobody's Perfect - Part Four

Star Traks: Silverado

2.18 "Nobody's Perfect – Part 4"

"OHMIGOD, OMIGOD!" Yanick gasped from the helm.  
"Can't this thing go any faster!" Jall moaned from Ops.  
"Deep breaths," Stafford reminded his staff as calmly as he could, "Just relax. Think."  
"WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!" Yanick cried.  
"Engineering to Bridge," Jeffery called up, annoyed, "Is there a reason why we're at Warp 9.5? There damned well bett-"  
"Not now, Simon!" Stafford bit out before cutting the channel.  
"Uh, sir?" Lieutenant Stern interjected from Tactical.  
"Yes?" Stafford asked, hands gripping and releasing his armrests.  
"The other ship is not pursuing," Stern reported.  
"Uh," Stafford suddenly calmed down, "Oh. Well then. Er, Ensign Yanick, reduce speed to Warp 8 and put us on course for the portal,"  
"Aye, sir," Yanick gulped.  
"Fifebee," Stafford turned to his science officer, "I have just a tiny little question for you,"  
"What the hell was that?" Fifebee guessed.  
"Good guess," Stafford replied.

"It is called," Fifebee stated, "A Transference Ray,"  
Stafford, Yanick, Wowryk, Jall and Jeffery looked at her blankly.  
"I keep forgetting that some people just can't be bothered to keep up with the news," Fifebee grumbled, indulging in an angry Klingon personality for 3.6 milliseconds before returning to her normal self.  
Silverado was still on course for the portal. Stafford had stated rather bluntly that he did not plan on retreating and leaving the people on Silverado-2 to their own devices, however he still wanted an escape route if it became absolutely necessary.  
"The Transference Ray was invented by Dr. Robert Tulson," Fifebee explained, "Rather, he was forced to invent it by a race called the Joegonots,"  
Everybody around the table shuddered. Everybody knew about the Joegonots; they had been the geeks and losers of the Alpha Quadrant, up until they had been severely and (hopefully) permanently altered.

Author's Note: For more details, see Star Traks 1. In fact, see Star Traks, The Lost Years for the final confrontation with the Joegonots and various other Traks, Waystation and Vexed Generation stories for details on the Joegonots, the Transference Ray and the Happyverse. You cannot resist…READ!

"Did you guys here that?" Stafford asked, cocking his head.  
"Hear what?" Jeffery asked.  
"Nevermind," Stafford shrugged, "It was probably nothing,"  
"Anyway," Fifebee went on, "The Jogonots had planned to use the ray to transform the Alpha Quadrant into beings like themselves. Captain Rydell of the U.S.S. Secondprize foiled their plot and used the ray to turn the Joegonots into normal people," Fifebee frowned, "Mostly normal, anyway. The ray was destroyed shortly afterwards,"  
"Waitaminute," Jall cut in, "Lieutenant Porter was telling me about some kind of beam in some other universe…it had something to do with K'Eleese,"  
"Right," Stafford snapped his fingers, "Captain Beck mentioned it too, that first time we went up against K'Eleese!"  
"Indeed," Fifebee nodded, "You see, in our universe, the Joegonots threat was ended. But there was a parallel universe where Captain Rydell never existed. And because of that, the Joegonots succeeded. Even worse, a Starfleet Counselor sided with them and modified the Transference Ray so that not only would it Joegonotize the quadrant, it also made them happy. Insanely happy. Horribly, terribly happy,"  
"The Happyverse," Stafford, Jall and Wowryk said together.  
"Ah keep hearing that word," Jeffery said, "But what the hell is it?"  
"Another universe," Fifebee explained.  
"But we're IN another-" Jeffery started.  
"There are LOTS of universes," Jall said.  
"Aye," Jeffery snapped back, "Too bad ours didn't get the better version of ye!"  
"They keep crossing the universal boundaries to bother us," Fifebee continued, ignoring the petty bickering, "There have been several wars in the Happyverse involving the 'Federation of Fun', the Dominion and the Borg of their universe, and so forth. Clearly, K'Eleese is trying to bring the same conflict to this universe, as evidenced by her attempts to form a 'Convivial Confederacy,"  
"Why here?" Stafford asked.  
"We sent her here," Jall sighed, "Remember? She wanted to go to the Happyverse, we tricked her into coming here. And now, she's apparently gotten her hands on a happy-beam,"  
"Ohhhh," Stafford shook his head, "THAT can't be good,"  
"And now the other Silverado has been, er," Jeffery hesitated, "Happified?"  
Stafford looked questioningly at Fifebee, who nodded.  
"Big time," she replied.

"Ohhh! This is just SOOO exciting!" K'Eleese squealed as she stepped out of the turbolift and onto the bridge of the Silverado-2, "My new toy worked perfectly! And now I even have my very own Sovereign–class starship to play with!"  
"Yippee," Slezar sighed. T'Parief's father, he was becoming increasingly bored with K'Eleese's somewhat insane attitude.  
"Oh, Slezar," K'Eleese seized him in a rough hug, "Without you, this would never have happened!"  
"Pleased to have been of assistance," Slezar forced out. He had, in fact, joined K'Eleese to further his own interests in creating an army of Gorn, Klingon and Andorian hybrids, just like his son T'Parief.  
K'Eleese skipped happily around the bridge, running her hands over the sleek control consoles before settling herself into the command chair.  
"Hmmm," she moaned, "I just love the leather upholstery! But I think we need something more. Maybe some fur? Yes!" K'Eleese giggled, "Mugato fur-lined upholstery! It will be perfect!"  
She turned to the man standing beside her.  
"Don't you agree?"  
"Oh, I most certainly do!" Captain Chris Stafford-2, AKA 'Chrissy-Wissy Stafford' replied, "The Lady is fun in all things!"  
"Hmmm, good," she turned to Stafford-2's first officer, "San-I-Am Jall, would you be so good as to rub my feet?" she turned and propped her feet up on the first-officer's chair.  
"It would be a happy privilege," San-I-Am replied, pulling off K'Eleese's boots and proceeding to massage her toes.  
"Ahhh," K'Eleese sighed contentedly and relaxed. After several moments she kicked Jall-2 away and jumped to her feet.  
"Enough!" a gleeful smile crossed her feet as she tossed her hair, checking to be sure that her Happy-Bosom-Helper bra was properly positioning her breasts in their most flattering position, "Open a channel to my forces!"  
Lieutenant Happy-Day tapped at the Ops console, carrying out her commands.

On several small colony worlds along the Klingon-Gorn-Federation border, vid-screens flickered to life, showing K'Eleese on the bridge of Silverado-2. Her long hair glistened and her lips shone with bright pink lipstick as she smiled widely, revealing rows of perfectly formed teeth. Her Klingon cranial ridges had the soft look of perfectly moisturized skin.  
"Attention members of the Convivial Confederacy!" she smiled, "The day of our ascension is at hand! I now have the means to spread happiness and ecstasy across our sad and depressed Alpha Quadrant, and I congratulate you all on your efforts to assist me!" she applauded briefly, "And now, it is with great pleasure that I announce that, for the good of our Confederacy and the good of the quadrant, I hereby declare myself Happymaster of the Convivial Confederacy!"  
This time the brainwashed Starfleet officers on Silverado-2's bridge joined her in her applause.  
Once the clapping subsided, K'Eleese turned solemn.  
"And," she said, "I make this my vow to you: Only after the entire quadrant has been properly cheered will I assume the title that is mine. Only then will I become Empress!"

Deep undercover in K'Eleese's underground headquarters, T'Parief stared at the display screen, remembering only at the last minute to join the Sobeks, his near-identical twins, in their thunderous applause.

Earth, 2173, Track A

Matthew Noonan ran as quickly as he could, sweat pouring down his face, dripping into his eyes and dampening his armpits. His breath came in ragged gasps and sharp pain stabbed into his chest.  
He'd been spying on two unknown creatures, nicknamed Grumpy and Smiley. Who and what they were he didn't know. Nobody really knew, which was why Starfleet Intelligence had been maintaining a quiet program to track and learn about them. Some things they knew, such as that they didn't like fire or sunlight and that they seemed to survive without food of any kind. Other things, like where they were from and what they wanted, were still a mystery.  
Still, what Noonan knew for sure what that these two weren't taking kindly to being spied on. They'd known the entire time that he was watching him. Every photo taken in the years Starfleet had tracked them had suggested that they knew they were under surveillance, but that they really didn't seem to care.  
Looking over his shoulder, Noonan could see the taller of the two, Smiley, following right behind him, no more than 50 meters away. Smiley didn't even seem to be getting tired; he just continued to match Noonan's pace, smiling broadly at him every time Noonan looked back.  
His hover-car had been locked, the codes changed. His communicator had flown from his hands when he'd first tried to use it and now hung on Smiley's belt. It didn't take 4 years of Starfleet Academy plus 2 more years of training for Intelligence to tell him that he was being toyed with.  
Stumbling, Noonan realized he'd entered the old Lafayette cemetery. But how could that have happened? He'd been running straight for the closest Starfleet office, which was in the exact opposite direction. Noonan knew there was no possible way he could have gotten that mixed up on his own.  
Clearly, the theories about these creature's mental abilities weren't all theories after all.  
Dragging himself back to his feet, Noonan spun around to face his hunter.  
Smiley stood calmly in front of him. Grumpy was nowhere in sight.  
"So," Smiley said, his voice almost insufferably calm, "Do you surrender?"  
"No!" Noonan gasped.  
Smiley laughed.  
"An indomitable spirit!" he grinned, "Oh, you are just TOO perfect! Yes, you will do quite well," he winked at Noonan, and started to pace.  
Despite himself, Noonan found the Starfleet Intel part of his mind grinding into gear, analyzing this creature he had studied from afar for so long.  
His voice was smooth, like silk. But there was hardness under it, like the proverbial iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove. His movements were fluid, relaxed. Supremely confident and completely inhuman. No man could move like that. Amber had dragged him to many a ballet, and though the grace displayed by those dancers was similar, none of them could match the pure casual grace of Smiley's gestures.  
"What do you want?" Noonan demanded, sticking to the tried and true.  
"Want?" Smiley's smile grew even wider, "Why, nothing more than the world!" he moved closer, as though conveying a great secret, "And you are going to help me get it!"  
Crying out, Noonan rushed the insufferable creature.

Present Day:

T'Parief frowned and wondered what the hell to do next.  
After a brief time spent with the base computer system, he'd been able to locate a section of vacant quarters, which he promptly converted into an impromptu base of operations. Despite the fancy name, it was little more than just a place where he could sit and plan his next move.  
OK. So Silverado was gone, having been chased off by the happified Silverado-2. He could steal a fighter and try to rejoin them, but he doubted he could get past both K'Eleese's cruiser and Silverado-2. It was clear to him that Stern-2 had been allowed to escape to bring the starships closer to the base, like a fish into a net. T'Parief was left with little choice, he would be of more use here, as a worm in K'Eleese's apple.  
Vowing to lay off the food analogies as his stomach rumbled, he continued his planning.  
Slezar had returned to the base, that much he knew. From his few cautious conversations with his 'brethren', he knew that Slezar never left for long. He might go with K'Eleese on a raid or to assist with issues on the cruiser in orbit, but he was always back before long to tend his cloning tanks.  
"Sobek-42, report to Main Cloning Chamber," called a voice over the intercom system, "Sobek-42, Main Cloning Chamber,"  
T'Parief jerked. Sobek-42? That was him! Or at least, the identity of the Sobek his fighter craft had been piloted by. That being had been killed during an attack on Silverado, but T'Parief had assumed his identity for his infiltration. His father had, somehow, recognized him earlier but had taken no action.  
So who was being summoned now? Sobek-42? Or T'Parief?

"I doubt he will come," Slezar grunted, standing with his arms crossed in the cloning chamber.  
"No Sobek would refuse your order," his chief aide, Sobek-1 assured him.  
"True," Slezar agreed, "You have all been taught well. However, I do not believe Sobek-42 still lives,"  
"Then who have you summoned?"  
"An...earlier version," Slezar said, "A prototype, one might say. Without him, I would never have created any of you,"  
"I see," Sobek-1 said thoughtfully, "It will be an honor to meet him,"  
"Indeed it will," Slezar replied, "If we do not have to kill him to gain an audience,"

T'Parief knew he was in trouble.  
He had walked in the general direction of the cloning chamber, planning to change course at the last minute, climb to one of the balcony's on which the cloning tanks were placed and assess the situation. However, as soon as he entered the main section of the base two Sobeks fell into step behind him. An escort.  
Very well. If they wanted to take him, he was not going to make it easy for them.  
Up ahead, the entrance to the Main Chamber was coming into view. T'Parief changed course at the last minute, taking a curved flight of stairs to the next level. A quick glance into a reflective wall panel showed that his two shadows were still behind him.  
T'Parief had reached the second level when a third Sobek jumped out from behind a cloning tank.  
Dodging, T'Parief sidestepped his assailant, giving him a helpful shove that sent him flying into Shadow #1. The two large aliens fell to the ground with a loud crash, rattling the nearest cloning tank in its housing. The third jumped straight at T'Parief, striking him across the middle.  
Bracing himself for the agony that would tell him he'd been eviscerated, T'Parief was somewhat surprised when his attacker's knuckles skidded across the hard muscle of his stomach.  
The Sobek had struck him without using claws.  
Choosing in a split second to respond in kind, T'Parief slammed his fist into his attacker's jaw, snapping his head around. Following up with a hard kick, T'Parief sent him crashing into the wall where he collapsed in a heap.  
Recovered from their earlier attack, his other two assailants rushed him. Blocking a punch from one, he sidestepped again to prevent the second from getting behind him. Snarling, the Sobek snapped at him with sharp teeth. Yet when the next punch was thrown the Sobek's claws were still retracted.  
Snarling back, T'Parief struck him in the chest, spinning around to batter the other with his thick tail.  
And roaring in pain as the other caught the last half-foot of his tail in his vice-like jaws. Gritting his teeth, T'Parief jerked his throbbing tail, bringing the Sobek's face close enough for a good kick.  
Blood streamed from the wounds and from the alien's teeth. Gashes from T'Parief foot-claws had cut into the Sobek's cheek, thick blood oozing down to drip from his chin.  
"Enough!" called a loud voice from somewhere in the cloning chamber.  
The two Sobek's immediately backed off. Unwilling to ignore the advantage, T'Parief advanced on them.  
He didn't even notice the one that crept up behind him until a heavy weight struck him in the head, sending him to the cold floor.

Stafford sat in his ready-room, contemplating the display on his console.  
The tactical display was running a battle scenario. In it, Silverado dropped out of warp near K'Eleese's base. Her Vor-cha-class cruiser, the Jubilant Death, and Silverado-2 immediately moved to confront the smaller ship, which was charging them at full impulse power.  
Several energy bolts erupted from the pulse phaser cannon, striking Silverado-2 while convention phasers and quantum torpedoes splashed against the Death's shields. Both ships staggered under the assault, but unleashed a counter-attack. Dodging, Silverado managed to evade several shots, but enough connected to tear her shields down to 30 percent.  
Watching the image of his ship still careening at full speed towards the other two ships, Stafford tapped in a new command sequence. On the screen, explosive bolts detached both warp-nacelles from their pylons, warp plasma streaming from the nacelles and nacelle pylons like blood from severed limbs. Steered by the maneuvering thrusters mounted on their aft ends and using momentum already built up, each nacelle targeted a ship. One struck the Jubilant Death dead center, sending the ship up in an enormous fireball. The second hit Silverado-2 atop the saucer section in a glancing blow that managed to tear apart the entire upper section of the ship.  
Right before it did though a hazy blue beam appeared, hitting Silverado amidships. Stafford slammed a fist onto his desk in disgust as the icon representing his ship on the tactical display was replaced by a yellow happy-face.  
"It was a good try," Sylvia said, her face appearing in the lower corner of the display, "The Nacelle-Bomb Maneuver, while rare, really isn't new, but this is exactly the kind of tactical situation where it becomes useful,"  
"Except that when we get close enough to ensure that both ships are hit we end up within range of the Happy Beam," Stafford grunted, disgusted.  
"It certainly does seem to be a no-win scenario," Sylvia agreed.  
"Oh yeah," Stafford sighed.  
BE-DEEP!  
"Come!" Stafford said.  
The ready-room doors opened and Simon Jeffery walked in.  
"Jeffery," Stafford gave a small wave, "What's up?"  
"Uh," Jeffery looked uncomfortable, "Yer busy. I'll come back later,"  
"Spill it!" Stafford ordered, "I could use a distraction from watching my ship being transformed into a flying carnival.  
Jeffery sat.  
"I hear you talked to Noel the other day," Jeffery said.  
"Yup,"  
"Hugged her and everything,"  
"Sure did," Stafford said neutrally.  
"So," Jeffery snapped, anger clouding his face "Yer not happy enough with stealing your own wife, but now yer moving in on my territory!"  
"What?" Stafford was shocked, "I wasn't! I didn't! I mean, I was trying to help-"  
"Oh, aye!" Jeffery said, "Ah can see how much it would help me for ye to get all cuddly with her! Or did ye forget, it was HER ye tried to 'conquer' when we were all loopy from that damaged Matrian ship!"  
"That wasn't my fault!" Stafford objected  
"Ah should have seen it sooner!" Jeffery went on, his face turning red as his rant continued, "The way ye mope around, whining about how tough it is being single. Ye were biding yer time! Waiting until the girl ye wanted was free an available!"  
"Jeffery, be reasonable," Stafford cut in, shaking his head, "You've misinterpreted everything!"  
"Have I?" Jeffery asked, "Ah think Ah'm doing pretty good, ye cock-blocking son of a-"  
"LIEUTENTANT COMMANDER JEFFERY!" Stafford roared, jumping to his feet, "You are OUT OF LINE! Now, get these ridiculous ideas out of your head, get out of my ready-room and get back to work!"  
Jeffery looked like he was going to continue the discussion, but he turned and stormed out.  
"I needed that like a hole in the head," Stafford said sadly after the doors closed.  
"He has a point," Sylvia chimed in, "Maybe you-"  
"Sylvia, come on," Stafford said tiredly.  
"Right. Dr. Wowryk," Sylvia chuckled, "Sorry, for a moment I forgot who I was talking about!"  
BE-DEEEP!  
Stafford sighed as his door beeped again. Thumbing the reply button on his desk, he rubbed his forehead with his spare hand.  
"If you're planning on shouting at me, go away," he said, "Otherwise, come on in,"  
The doors swished open and Lieutenant Fifebee stepped in.  
"I take it Lieutenant Commander Jeffery is having bad day?" Fifebee inquired politely.  
"He and I both," Stafford admitted.  
"Then perhaps some good news would prove helpful,"  
Stafford perked up.  
"Always," he replied, suddenly all business.  
"I've been researching the Transference Ray, along with some of the records the other Stafford turned over to us," Fifebee said, handing a padd over to Stafford, "And I believe I have identified somebody who can be of assistance.  
"Admiral Jaroch?" Stafford read from the padd, "Why am I sure I've heard that name before?"  
"You have," Fifebee's body shimmered as she took the form of a slim Yynsian male with Captain's pips.  
"Hey!" Stafford exclaimed. Fifebee could almost swear she saw a light bulb appearing over his head, "That's one of your hologram personality guys, right?"  
"Yes," Fifebee said, resuming her normal appearance, "We've encountered Captain Jaroch twice. The first time was when the U.S.S. Secondprize towed us to dry dock after our unplanned slingshot maneuver. The second was when the Jaroch hologram assisted in the re-assimilation of my personality database,"  
"Sooo," Stafford said slowly, "How's he going to help us this time?"  
"According to this information," Fifebee picked up the padd again, "Admiral Jaroch is heading up a branch of Starfleet R&D. If this universe is close enough to our own, it is likely he has information on the Transference Ray, seeing as how he was the science officer of the ship that first encountered it,"  
Stafford was already tapping on his console, accessing long-range communications.

T'Parief awoke slowly, his head throbbing as a very bright light switched on, making his eyes ache.  
"You will awaken now," a firm and very familiar voice said.  
Struggling against a round of vertigo, T'Parief forced his eyes the rest of the way open and struggled to sit up, only to find he was strapped into a chair of some kind.  
"He is awake," a second voice said.  
"Indeed," the first said dryly, "I did notice, thank you,"  
"Father?" T'Parief creaked.  
"Yes, spawn," Slezar replied. As his vision cleared, T'Parief was able to take a closer look at his father's features.  
Slezar was almost unchanged from when T'Parief had last seen him, the only difference being the addition of several stress lines creasing the borders between his scales.  
"It is agreeable to see you again," Slezar went on, "Tell me, were you manning the weapons console when we attacked your vessel?"  
"I was," T'Parief replied, cursing himself for his instinctive obedience to his father.  
"I thought so," Slezar said thoughtfully, flicking his tongue out to sample the air as he tapped at a nearby console, "Your counter-attack, while decisive, was also somewhat clumsy. You used a brute-force weapon to destroy our fighters rather than identifying their weaknesses and using more subtle weapons to take advantage of them,"  
"We still beat you," T'Parief stated firmly.  
Chuckling dryly, Slezar continued to tap at the console. An overhead panel opened and an odd looking array of scanners and sensors lowered themselves around T'Parief's head.  
"Why are you working for her, Father," T'Parief demanded, "Why did you leave Mother for this freak? K'Eleese is-"  
The two Sobek guards near the door bared their teeth.  
"Careful, spawn," Slezar advised, "You will find that K'Eleese's troops do not respond well to comments made against their mistress. In any event, my reasons are my own. I needn't explain myself to you," he stepped out from behind the console and looked T'Parief square in the eye.  
"Suffice to say," Slezar said slowly, "That what I am about to do to you will be of great benefit to K'Eleese and her forces,"  
Then, he winked.  
It was brief, and for a moment T'Parief thought he might have imagined it. The next instant, Slezar was again the indifferent scientist, regarding him as one might regard an interesting lab rat.  
"Now then," he said, stepping back behind his console, "You must have noticed some of the changes that I've made with the Sobeks," he flicked his tongue out again, "Changes that you probably don't understand very well,"  
"You've given them the ability to mate," T'Parief replied, feeling a cold anger rise in his chest, "An ability you denied me,"  
"Easily remedied," Slezar dismissed, "I'm surprised one of your Starfleet doctors hasn't already figured out how to countermand that-"  
"They have," T'Parief snapped.  
"Then there is no problem," Slezar shrugged, "It will be interesting to see what kind of offspring you and that human woman will produce. Needless to say, I doubt she would enjoy the process. Klingon and Gorn mating habits are really quite…aggressive,"  
"You might be surprised," T'Parief shot back.  
"Regardless, I'm sure you've noticed other changes as well," Slezar went on, "Obedience, loyalty and so forth. It really is quite impossible for them to betray myself or K'Eleese. Or," Slezar allowed a small amount of anger to enter his voice, "to run off and join Starfleet,"  
"Surely," T'Parief shot back, contempt dripping from every word, "You did not go along with this scheme simply to get back at me for leaving Nisus?"  
Slezar laughed.  
"You give yourself too much credit, spawn!" he hissed, "Far too much! You were an excellent prototype, but not all prototypes make it to production!" With a quick movement, he stabbed one last control on the panel.  
After a brief hum, several beams of light stabbed out of emitters, flashing over T'Parief's head. He could feel a slight itch, almost as though his brain were being carefully examined with a dental pick.  
"Excellent," Slezar nodded, pulling two data chips out of the console, "You might find this interesting," he said, conversationally, "I've just taken a complete scan of your brainwaves. This chip," he held up one chip, "now contains a full reading of every energy pattern being produced by your brain. It certainly could be," Slezar gave a lazy smile, "A very interesting piece of so many different puzzles. Don't you agree?" Not bothering to wait for a reply, he turned to one of the guards.  
"Take this to the cloning research center immediately," he ordered. He turned to the other guard, "You, stand watch outside. Make sure he doesn't leave,"  
Finally, he turned back to T'Parief.  
"It was agreeable to see you again, T'Parief," he said, "Perhaps, in the future, you will cease to disappoint me,"  
With that he left, leaving T'Parief alone in the medical lab.

Earth, 2173, Track A

Noonan couldn't recall having ever been so helpless.  
His attempted assault on Smiley had been pointless. Smiley had simply laughed and moved with impossible speed, sidestepping Noonan's assault and grabbing the officer by the scruff of the neck. One careful blow was all it took to put Noonan into a daze. Dimly, he was aware of being lifted and carried.  
When full awareness returned, he was lying on a beautifully detailed Persian rug in the middle of a beautifully appointed room.  
And he was being watched.  
Grumpy was seated on a sofa, legs crossed and fingers steeple. He didn't move, looking to Noonan like a statue carved of ivory, except for the bright green eyes that stared right into Noonan's.  
Grumpy abruptly stood, shattered the illusion.  
"Do you really think this could work?" he said softly. His voice had the same silky sound as Smiley, but the hardness wasn't present. Instead he sounded thoughtful and just a bit sad.  
"Of course it could work," Smiley said, startling Noonan, "We have discussed this thoroughly. This is the single best way for us to do this!"  
"But," Grumpy gestured towards Noonan, a pained look on his face, "What about the mortal? We are condemning him to-"  
"To nothing!" Smiley snapped, the smile gone, "Listen, _, if this works he will have all of our strengths, without our greatest weaknesses! Forget that, he could change our way of life forever!"  
"But why him?" Grumpy insisted, "Why not one of the younger ones? They could get what-"  
"No," Smiley cut him off, a small grin returning, "It has been far too long since we made another. None of us understands this time! Starships and warp reactors and matter synthesis. He is exactly what we need!"

Present Day

"Starfleet R&D, Admiral Jaroch speaking," stated the Yynsian male on Stafford's display screen.  
"Admiral Jaroch," Stafford took a deep breath, "I'm Captain Christopher Stafford of the U.S.S. Silverado-"  
"Captain," Jaroch smiled warmly, "A pleasant surprise! It's been what, a year since that nastiness in the Delta Encarta system?"  
"Er, right," Stafford swallowed uncomfortably, "Admiral, I'm not the Chris Stafford you know. I'm actually from a parallel universe. I'm calling because I need your help,"  
The smile slid off Jaroch's face.  
"Go on," he said, his voice carefully flat.  
Stafford explained the situation with K'Eleese, the portal, the Sobeks and the happification of the Silverado-2.  
"This is certainly a situation deserving of the utmost attention," Jaroch said once he had finished, "What do you need from me?"  
"I, we, were hoping," Stafford said, "that you might know of a way to reverse the effects of the happy beam, and maybe even a way to shield ourselves from it,"  
"Ah!" Jaroch exclaimed, "Well, I can certainly help you with the first item. We do have a beam that will reverse the effects of the Transference Ray," Jaroch frowned, "Actually, it's just another Transference Ray, programmed with the brain patterns of normal humanoids,"  
"Whatever works!" Stafford said eagerly.  
"We don't have a way of shielding against the beam though," Jaroch cautioned him, "And besides that, how do I know you're telling me the truth? This is very sensitive technology we're dealing with here,"  
Stafford was taken aback.  
"Why would I lie?" he demanded.  
"Well," Jaroch looked uncomfortable, "We have had a few, er, problems with people from other universes,"  
"Fair enough," Stafford agreed, an idea striking him, "One moment…"  
He tapped at his console, initiating a conference call.  
"You've reached Captain Chrissy-Wissy Stafford of the Funship Silverado!" Stafford-2 said, a wide grin on his face, "We're rather busy taking over the quadrant at the moment so please leave your message at the beep…BEEP!"  
Stafford cut the third channel.  
Jaroch was stunned.  
"Good enough," he squeaked. Then, clearing his throat, "I'll transmit the schematics of the Transference Ray momentarily,"  
"Thanks, Admiral,"  
"Just please," Jaroch pleaded, "Don't let this insanity spread! I'm sending the U.S.S. Ossington and the U.S.S. Eglinton to assist you, but they won't be there for at least 72 hours!"  
"Gotcha," Stafford nodded.

Several moments later, Stafford strode out onto the bridge.  
"Fifebee," he said, tossing a data chip in her direction, sending her scrambling to catch it, "I have a job for you. I want one of these mounted on Silverado and on all of our shuttles," he turned to address the rest of the crew, "Everybody else, prepare for battle. Again,"  
Jall groaned.  
"Can't we just all go for lattes instead?' he asked.

T'Parief sat strapped to the examination chair, contemplating his surroundings. He'd been left, alone, in the room with the proverbial one inept guard standing outside the door. There had been no interrogation, no torture and no bizarre K'Eleese fetish attack. He didn't even really understand his father's purpose for having him brought here. What could he possibly get from another scan?  
He didn't even ask why I was here, T'Parief realized. He immediately started looking back over the conversation he'd had with his father.  
The wink came immediately to mind. He'd winked, after saying that what he was doing would benefit K'Eleese. He'd done the same thing earlier, when he'd said that Silverado didn't have a chance. Was his father developing a sense of humor? Or was he trying to tell T'Parief something.  
T'Parief looked around the room again, then examined the straps that held him to the chair. He hadn't even noticed before, but they really didn't look all that strong. In fact, if he craned his neck he could almost reach the one on his arm...  
SNAP!  
With one bite, he freed his arm. Within seconds he'd freed himself and started looking around the room. He quickly realized that there was little there beyond the chair, the door, an access panel and the control console Slezar had used.  
And a data chip sitting on the console.  
'A very interesting piece to so many different puzzles,' Slezar had said. He'd pulled two chips out of the sensor console, but he'd only taken ONE chip with him.  
T'Parief pocketed the chip.  
The access panel was easily opened, revealing a maintenance crawlway leading deep into the guts of K'Eleese's Ecstasy Base.  
Cursing softly as he banged his head on a support strut, he squeezed through the hatchway.

"We have picked up the Starfleet ship on long range scanners," Sobek-3 reported from the Jubilant Death's sensor panel.  
"Silverado?" K'Eleese asked.  
"Yes," Sobek-3 reported, "It is approaching at Warp 8", the alien frowned, "I am picking up 3 smaller warp signatures, but I cannot identify them,"  
"Who cares," K'Eleese laughed, "In less than an hour they will either be working for me, or they'll be dead!" she clapped her meaty hands together, "Either way, they're out of my hair!" she pulled one of her long braids to her face and took a deep sniff, "Mmmm…fruity. And what perfect texture!"  
"They could have a plan," Sobek-2, her first officer said carefully, "Perhaps they have a plan for defeating us,"  
The smile slid of K'Eleese's face.  
"Come here," she said quietly. Following his programming, Sobek-2 stepped closer to the command chair, unaware that most sentient species would have run screaming for the exit.  
With lightning speed, K'Eleese landed a hard chop to the alien's left leg, instantly cramping the thick muscle and drawing a grunt of pain.  
"DO NOT QUESTION ME!" K'Eleese hollered, jumping out of her chair and knocking the hulking alien to the deck. Crossing her arms, she looked down at her second in command, "You know, Number Two," she chuckled to herself, enjoying her play on the alien's name, "I think that before you can be a truly valued member of my command staff, you will need a small," K'Eleese's smile deepened, "attitude adjustment!"  
Sobek-2 gulped.  
"To the science lab!" K'Eleese laughed aloud, then paused, "I mean, the Chamber of Perpetual Happiness!"

"Ammit-bitten, Ra-be-Damned piece of-" there was another CLUNK as T'Parief banged his knee on the hatchway that, two second earlier, had impacted on his cranium. He'd run out of Gorn and Klingon curses some time ago, an impressive, once in a lifetime feat in itself, and had reverted to Terran swearing. Sadly, he picked up most of his Terran curse-words from watching their movies. Stargate had played to a full house just two weeks ago.  
Trying to remember the maps he had viewed, T'Parief was pretty sure he was somewhere in the vicinity of the Main Cloning Chamber, with its tiers of cloning tanks. Hopefully, he could corner Slezar in a more private location and force his father to reveal some of what he had been trying to tell T'Parief.  
Checking again to ensure the data chip was still in his pocket, T'Parief pondered his father's words again. A piece of interesting puzzles. Which puzzles? K'Eleese's plot for creating her Convivial Confederacy? Silverado's mission to defeat her?  
Or something more personal. If T'Parief was a piece of the puzzle, wouldn't it make more sense for the puzzle to involve him? It didn't take a genius to realize that T'Parief's whole life was a puzzle; right from his mismatched brothers to the gland that prevented him from mating. But what would his brain scans have to do with it?  
The cramped passageway opened up into a small junction with an access terminal and a vertical access tube. It only took a moment for T'Parief to tap into the teminal. Whatever this puzzle piece was, he was pretty sure that Stafford would want it.

Earth, 2173, Track A

"W-what are you going to do?" Noonan asked. He found he couldn't move from where he sprawled on the carpet.  
"It's really quite simple," Smiley explained, "You see, when I make another Blood-Drinker, as I intend to do to you, I always find that my blood is far too powerful. The poor creatures end up with abilities that warp their fragile minds quite horribly. And so my dear companion here," he gestured at Grumpy, "Will be making a contribution of his own," Smiley moved closer to Noonan, "This is a new era for the vampires! You will be the first! With my power, and my companion's insufferable humanity, you will be our liaison to the technologies of this world," Noonan could see the greed in the beings eyes, "You will help us obtain technologies that will feed us without causing pain to mortals, technologies that will keep us hidden from them and technologies that will protect us as we venture where no vampire has gone before!" Smiley turned to Grumpy and looked almost sympathetic, "I know this pains you, my friend. But you, he and I will gain so much! And for once," he turned back to Noonan, "so little will be lost!"  
Noonan didn't even have time to scream as Smiley rushed him. He felt a splitting pain in his neck, a pulling that reached every part of his body, then the world faded into darkness.

Present Day:

"We'll be in range in 5 minutes," Ensign Yanick reported from the helm.  
Red lights flashed on the bridge as stars streaked by on the main screen. Backup crewmen were in place at both Auxiliary consoles; Port Auxiliary having been setup to act as Damage Control and Starboard Auxiliary having been setup as a secondary Tactical station. Lieutenant Stern was manning the main Tactical station and Lieutenant Sage had been pulled from a sound sleep to man the bridge Engineering station. With Ensign Day at Damage Control, Ensign Marsden at Secondary Tactical and Lieutenant Commander Quintaine in the first officer's chair, the bridge was comfortably crowded, in Yanick's opinion.  
Which meant it was getting a little too crowded for everybody else.  
Elsewhere on the ship, crewmen and women were again manning battle stations. Damage control teams were ready and Sickbay was prepped. On Deck 13 Jeffery was checking the connections on the lower forward phaser array, which had been converted into a Transference Ray.  
"Hey, Captain," Jall called from Ops, startling Yanick out of her reverie, "We're being hailed by the planetoid,"  
"On screen," Stafford ordered, affecting his best 'Commanding Starfleeter' pose, "Attention forces of K'Eleese! This is Captain Christopher Stafford of the –"  
"Your fly is undone, Captain," T'Parief pointed out from the main screen. Yanick swallowed hard, trying to focus on her console and not on…him! He really did look delicious. No! Don't think that way! He was mean! Well, one time anyway.  
"What?" Stafford immediately went to check, "No, it isn't!"  
"No," T'Parief admitted, "but it will now be easier to convince you I am T'Parief and not a Sobek,"  
"Why's that?" Stafford asked wearily.  
"Because the Sobeks would not know about that time you impounded a freighter smuggling Swiss Chocolate over the Romulan border with your pants unzipped," T'Parief stated calmly.  
"Report, Mr. T'Parief," Stafford said, sitting back in his seat as the bridge crew snickered.  
"I had been captured by the Sobeks, but have escaped," T'Parief reported, "My father," he swallowed, "I am not sure what my father has done. But he did give me what he claims is a very important piece of the puzzle,"  
"What puzzle?" Quintaine asked.  
"What piece?" Jall added.  
"I do not know!" T'Parief snapped, "But I will transmit-"  
"Shit!" Yanick screamed, tapping her console, dropping Silverado out of warp and going into evasive maneuvers, "We're in weapons range!"  
"Thanks for paying attention, you lot!" Stafford roared, "T'Parief, we'll talk to you later!"  
"But, Captain-" T'Parief started. He was cut off as Stafford switched the main screen to an exterior view.  
"We're receiving a file upload," Fifebee said.  
"And we're being fired on!" Stern snapped.  
"Trish!" Stafford hissed, "the plan?"  
"On it!" Yanick forced out, tapping at her console.

Silverado had dropped out of warp within weapons range of both Jubilant Death and Silverado-2, but was still moving fast enough to evade most of the storm of weapons fire that was launched in her direction. Focusing on the Jubilant Death, Silverado unleashed a wave of phaser beams and torpedoes, trying to do as much damage as possible to K'Eleese's shields.  
Sweating as she worked the helm console, Yanick moved Silverado behind the Klingon cruiser and was doing her best to keep her there. On the bow of that ship was a happy beam that could end the entire fight very quickly.  
Stafford had abandoned his nacelle-bomb plan. Aside from breaking his ship into pieces, the addition of his own Transference Ray and transformed the battle from a desperate attempt to knock out K'Eleese into a valiant struggle for victory.  
"Jeffery," Stafford shouted from the command chair, "tell me we're ready!"  
"We're ready!" Jeffery said. He closed the channel, "I think," he added to himself.  
"Stern, keep firing on K'Eleese! Marsden, lock the Transference Ray onto Silverado-2!"  
"One Bitch Ray, coming up!" Marsden reported.  
"Now!"

Yanick pushed the old ship hard, spinning her around and bringing the bow and the lower forward phaser array to point in Silverado-2's direction while still trying to stay behind the Klingon ship. Stern fired several torpedoes, both the standard photons and a few of the more powerful quantum variety. Each torpedo was programmed to circle the bulk of K'Eleese's ship and impact on the forward shields. Several of the torpedoes were destroyed by disrupter beams before they could make it, but several more struck home. Return fire was heavy, and Silverado's shields were starting to weaken.  
Silverado shook as a quantum torpedo from the Sovereign-class ship struck hard on the port saucer. But the shields held and as soon as he could make the shot, Marsden fired. A hazy red beam shot out of Silverado's phaser array, washing Silverado-2 in bloody red light.

Stafford-2 blinked from his command chair. On his viewer he could see Silverado pitching to one side as another quantum torpedo blew a hole in her port shields. A disruptor blast from K'Eleese's ship struck the ship on the other side, further weakening the ships strained starboard shields.  
Why was he attacking that ship again? Why was Yanick-2 dressed in bright pink? Why was Fifebee wearing a baby-blue uniform top with a bright blue tutu?  
Oh-no.  
"We were happified!" Stafford cried.  
"Silverado to Silverado!" his own voice came over the comm, "Are you people back to your usual arrogant selves yet?"  
"We are SO not arrogant!" Jall-2 snapped from the first officer's position.  
"That answers that!" Stafford snapped back, "How about some help here?"  
"Intruder Alert!" Stern-2 snapped from Tactical, "We have Sobeks on all decks! They're attacking!"  
"We have our own problems!" Stafford-2 reported, "We've got Sobeks up the wazoo here! You're going to have to deal with K'Eleese on your own for now!"  
He cut the channel.

"Ohhhh!" K'Eleese fumed watching as Silverado-2 broke off its attack run and moved away from Silverado, a few phaser blasts spearing out to connect with the fighters that had, until now, served as her escort. Doing an excellent Marvin the Martian impression, she clenched her fists and snarled, "This is making me VERY angry!"  
"They must have a Transference Ray of their own," the newly happified Sobek-2 stated as the ship shook from a Silverado-delivered photon torpedo, "Goody! We have SOO much in common!"  
"And we'll have more soon enough!" K'Eleese snarled, pushing Sobek-7 away from Tactical and arming the Happy Beam.

"Trish! She's pointed right at us!" Stafford said, watching as K'Eleese's ship swung around, bringing her forward weapons to bear on his ship.  
"Impulse engines are damaged!" Yanick reported, trying to pull away from the Jubilant Death, "I can't move us fast enough!"  
"Shields down to 30 percent!" Stern reported.  
"I'm picking up-" Fifebee started.  
Stafford didn't wait for her to finish.  
"WARP SPEED!" he yelled.  
Yanick started to enter the command, but before she could hit the 'Execute' button, she was struck by a sudden wave of joy. Why should they fear K'Eleese? She was just a big, cuddly Klingon who wanted to make the world happy. Mmmmm…happy. Like pretty bright colours and stuffed animals. Like riding Fred, her horse, into a warm sunset. Like pretty flowers and happy smiling kitties and maybe even a panda bear or two. Unable to stop herself, she grinned widely at the pure joy of the universe-  
-and a wave of sadness swept over her like a tidal wave. The ship was being attacked, shields were damaged and they were probably going to DIE!"

"Pye to Silverado," the comm chirped, barely audible over Yanick's desperate wail, "Welcome back!"  
"Good job, Ensign," Stafford replied, letting out a sigh of relief.  
Knowing that somebody was likely to end up happified, Stafford had ordered the three shuttles to wait outside the battle zone unless Silverado had found herself on the receiving end of a Happy Ray. Equipped with Transference Beams of their own, the shuttles had dove in, de-happified the joy-stricken ship and proceeded to fire their smaller weapons at the Jubilant Death.  
"Now, Stern!" Stafford snapped, "Before she fires again!"  
Stern tapped the phaser controls, firing the pulse phaser right at K'Eleese's Happy Ray.  
At full strength, the Vor-Cha-class cruiser's shields probably would have held. But after enduring several torpedo hits and the shuttle assault, the weakened deflectors gave way to the rapid-fire phaser bolts. The Happy Beam exploded into a cloud of metallic fragments and vaporized plastics just as the energy cells powering the pulse cannon ran dry.  
"Enough good cheer for today," Stafford said.

T'Parief watched the battle from his cramped little junction. After Silverado-2 had suddenly broken off her attack, he concluded that somehow Stafford or Fifebee had devised a way to reverse the effects of K'Eleese's Happy Ray. But K'Eleese still had a large reserve of fighters at her disposal and her cruiser would probably blow Silverado out of the sky if Silverado-2 didn't return to the fight soon.  
It was time to take action.  
But what the heck was he supposed to do in the middle of K'Eleese's base?  
He turned to the vertical tube, intent on forcing his way into the command center and at least trying to lock down the docking bays and prevent a few fighters from joining the fray. According to the map displayed on the small terminal, he was right at the base of the Main Cloning Chamber, just a quick climb up and-  
Up. To the Main Chamber. Which, according to the maps he'd seen, was supposedly located at the lowest of the base.  
Releasing the ladder rungs, T'Parief opened the lower access hatch, revealing a ladder that led down into parts of the base that, according to the computers, didn't exist. Checking quickly he found no signs of an alarm or other security system. But why should there be? The Sobeks were programmed for obedience, not curiosity. Only Slezar and K'Eleese had the motivation to wonder what was down there, and T'Parief was willing to bet that K'Eleese was far too busy with galactic domination to really worry about an extra access hatch here or there.  
Tucking in his tail as best he could, T'Parief started to climb downward.

"We could really use some options here, people!" Stafford called.  
Smoke was billowing on the bridge from the Science console, which had exploded after a direct hit to one of the main sensor arrays. Fifebee had quickly moved herself over to Auxillary Starboard, now that the Happy/Unhappy beam portion of the fight had ended.  
The ship shook again as a wave of fighters streaked by, delivering disruptor hits to the starboard nacelle pylon. The glowing blue warp grill on the nacelle flickered and faded as plasma billowed from a ruptured power transfer conduit.  
"Shields at 20 percent!" Stern called.  
Stafford sighed. They were putting up a pretty good fight. Stern and Quintane were doing the best they could, but they just weren't as quick or as experienced as T'Parief and Noonan. Wondering briefly if he was gaining new understanding of how Admiral Tunney had initially felt about Silverado he resumed wracking his brains for a solution to their predicament.  
What would Noonan do? Screw that! Stafford couldn't even figure out why Noonan bothered to drink wine for breakfast. He had about as much chance of predicting his battle strategies as a monkey had of working a computer.  
T'Parief was a little more his speed. What would T'Parief do? Follow his orders, Stafford realized glumly.  
"Hull breach on Deck 15!" Ensign Day called out, "Emergency forcefields have failed!"  
"Evacuate that section!" Stafford called out.  
"Captain!" Fifebee exclaimed.  
"What!"  
"I have analyzed the file sent by Lieutenant Commander T'Parief!" Fifebee reported proudly.  
"Is this really the time?" Stafford shot back as the ship shook.  
"Yes!" Fifebee insisted, "He has sent us an extremely detailed brain wave pattern scan of himself!"  
She paused to let the significance of her find sink in. It didn't.  
"And?" Stafford shouted over the crash of another disruptor impact.  
"We can use it to reprogram the Transference Ray!" Fifebee explained, "We can turn the Sobeks-"  
"Into T'Pariefs!" Stafford gasped.

Climbing out of the access tube, the first thing T'Parief did was bang his head against a conduit.  
"Son of a God-damned, expletive deleted, expletive deleted, deleted expletive!" he cursed. Clearly K'Eleese had played at least SOME part in the design of this base! There was no possible way his father would have designed a facility with so many obstructions at head level!  
T'Parief's words faded as he climbed out of the maintenance tunnel and into a wide corridor. He was actually at a junction, with corridors branching off in several different directions. Both sides of each of the corridors were lined with cloning tubes, fed from conduits snaking down from the levels above. Each conduit held a single adult Sobek.  
T'Parief felt growing apprehension as he began walking down one corridor. With all of these Sobeks, K'Eleese would have at least double the forces she currently wielded.  
It didn't take long for T'Parief to locate a heavy wrench. No matter how advanced a race was technologically, they never seemed to outgrow the use of the common threaded bolt.  
Moving towards the closest cloning tube, T'Parief prepared to swing.

"Get us closer to Silverado-2!" Stafford ordered, hanging on for dear life as his ship shook around him, "Divert more power to the shields!"  
Stern rerouted power yet again.  
"Shields at 15 percent!" he reported.  
"Fifebee! How's it going!" Stafford called into the comm.  
"The modifications are complete!" Fifebee called, "You may fire when ready!"

Lieutenant Marsden-2 gasped in pain as he led Alpha Squad against the Sobek invasion of the ship. So far they'd manage to stun 4 of the large reptiles, but he'd lost one crewman to a disruptor beam and was himself nursing a slashed forearm.  
A wounded crewman staggered towards Marsden from around a corner.  
"They've barricaded themselves in Computer Core Control!" he reported, "God knows what they can do to the ship from there! You've got to stop them!"  
Marsden gulped. His small force couldn't hope to overrun a well-defended position. But neither could they allow intruders access to vital computer systems.  
"C'mon," he said to his troops, hoping he sounded far more confident than he felt.

Sobek-16 checked his weapon as he crouched behind a control panel. Behind him, Sobek-17 and 18 were trying to break through the security lockouts on the computer core. He didn't bother to consider why the crew of the ship had rebelled against K'Eleese, such thinking was not his responsibility. The doors hissed open and 5 Starfleet Officers rushed in, phasers firing.  
Sobek-16 brought up his weapon and was about to fire when a sudden wave of nausea washed through him. What was he doing here? What was happening? Why was he fighting these people? Who in the galaxy would pledge allegiance to a woman who had flowers painted over body armor.  
Dropping his weapon, he stood, hands up, claws retracted.  
"I surrender," he stated calmly, seconds before a phaser blast from Ensign Kreklor-2 send him reeling into unconsciousness.  
"Oops," Kreklor-2 said innocently as Marsden and the others collected weapons from the other, still conscious Sobeks.

"Sir!" Stern-2 called from Tactical, "Silverado has fired another transference beam at us!" he continued tapping his console, "And the Sobeks are surrendering!"  
"Anybody feel any different?" Stafford-2 asked.  
Everybody shook their heads.  
"This beam had a different modulation," Sikcee reported from Sciences, "It was targeted specifically at Sobek neural profiles,"  
"Maybe NOW you can help us out?" Stafford's voice came over the comm.  
"What is the other Silverado's status?" Stafford-2 demanded.  
"Not good!" Stern-2 reported.  
"Extend our shields around the other ship," Stafford-2 ordered.  
"Thanks," Stafford called over the comm, "Now, if you'll watch our backs, we have work to do!"

T'Parief swung the wrench, hard, right at the cloning tank.  
CLANG!  
He dropped the tool and gripped his hands, which were vibrating with the extreme pain of a metal on metal impact.  
"You really do not want to do that, spawn," Slezar said. Another wrench lay on the floor and his father appeared to be in a similar amount of pain.  
"Why not?" T'Parief snarled.  
"Look closely," Slezar nodded at the tank.  
T'Parief did. Flash-education feeds were attached to the alien's skull, but he could see greenish-brown scales, razor-sharp teeth, cranial ridges, a pair of sensory buds and a set of lovely, fully formed breasts.  
Breasts?  
"A female!" T'Parief exclaimed.  
"More than one," Slezar said, gesturing down the corridor.  
T'Parief moved slowly from one cloning tank to another. Each tank held a fully formed, female Sobek.  
"They're all female?" he asked slowly.  
"Every single one," Slezar confirmed, "A female for every male up there,"  
"And twice the army for K'Eleese!" T'Parief accused.  
"Hmmm," Slezar purred, "You disappoint me. You still haven't discovered what I am doing here?"  
"The attacks on my ship speak for themselves!" T'Parief accused.  
"Yes, well," Slezar said, "That was unfortunate. I needed to involve Starfleet to ensure K'Eleese would be taken care of. And, thanks to you, that is taking place!"  
"What?"  
Slezar handed him a padd. As he watched, a view of the battle unfolded on the display. Silverado and Silverad-2 were close together, possibly sharing deflector shields. As he watched, a hazy green beam fired out of Silverado's lower forward phaser array and stuck a flight of fighters headed for the two ships. For several seconds nothing happened. Then the fighters broke away and set course to return to the base.  
"What?" T'Parief murmured.  
"You were my prototype in far more ways than one," Slezar said, "You and your brothers. I spent nearly two decades analyzing your behavior, trying to decide which of you would make the best base model. Your brothers may have been more obedient, but you proved far more adaptable, cunning and loyal. Loyalty and intelligence can be so much more useful than blind obedience, you see,"  
As he spoke, Slezar led T'Parief down the corridor to a small control room.  
"You have developed exactly as I planned. Unfortunately, the Gorn who backed my project pulled out several months ago. I had feared that my work was in vain, but that horribly cheerful K'Eleese woman dropped right into my lap," Slezar's tongue tasted the air, "She has behaved exactly as I predicted. You have behaved exactly as I predicted. And, most importantly of all, Starfleet has behaved exactly as I predicted," he gestured to the display. Silverado had turned her green ray on K'Eleese's cruiser. Weapons fire abruptly ceased and the large ship turned slowly away from the approaching starships.  
"Her space forces have crumbled," Slezar hissed with satisfaction, "Any moment now, your captain will direct the Transference Ray at this base and each of the Sobek's here will become exactly like you,"  
T'Parief was stunned.  
"To what end!" he said finally, "So you can have an army of genetically engineered weapons with which to attack the quadrant?"  
"Hardly," Slezar said with condescension, "that failed for the Jem Hadar, why would it work for me? Besides, I am a scientist, not a warlord. I am doing something that no scientist in the Alpha Quadrant has done!"  
Whirling around, he slammed his hand down on a large button. With a hiss, fluid began draining from the dozens of cloning tubes lining the corridor outside the control room. Panels opened and female Sobeks took their first steps into the world.  
"I have become the father a new race!" Slezar finished.

"What is WRONG with you!" K'Eleese screamed furiously, flailing her fists against Sobek-2, "Attack! Fire! Destroy them!"  
Sobek-2 pushed her away with one hard.  
"Why?" he asked calmly.

"I've targeted K'Eleese's base," Stern reported from Tactical.  
"Will the beam penetrate?" Stafford asked.  
"It should," Fifebee stated.  
"Then fire!"

All though Ecstasy Base, Sobeks stopped what they were doing as they were overcome with waves of nausea. When they reopened their eyes, they looked around as though seeing their world for the first time. Tools and tasks were abandoned as they started to mill around, wondering what they were supposed to do next.

"I think it is time we left," Slezar said. He tapped his padd again. Back at the main corridor junction a section of ceiling collapsed into a stairway leading up to the Main Cloning Chamber. Following Slezar's instructions, the confused female Sobeks made their way up.

Sobek-1 was startled at first when the floor in the Main Chamber buckled, but he was downright shocked at what appeared from below.  
Slezar and his son emerged, followed by dozens and dozens of females, their supple bodies still slick from the nutrient bath they'd been immersed in.  
"My children," Slezar announced, his padd amplifying his voice, "Your time of servitude has ended! Today, you take your first steps into the galaxy, not as soldiers or conquerors, but as a new race, ready to take your place in the galactic community!"

Runabout Asessippi

"When I awoke, it was over," Matthew Noonan said to Kelsey Noonan, "I was transformed into one of them,"  
"And Smiley's plan?" Kelsey asked, "Did it work?"  
Noonan chuckled.  
"It worked all right," he said, "I was able to obtain the technology he wanted from Starfleet Intelligence. He had this grand scheme of breaking into HQ and raiding the science labs, but I found it was much easier to simply ask,"  
"And Starfleet agreed?" Kelsey was shocked.  
"After some debate," Noonan said, "They gave us the technology to feed ourselves in return for assurance that no Blood-Drinker would ever attack another mortal, for fear of death. And in return for us keeping ourselves secret from the rest of humanity,"  
"And did they?" Kelsey asked, "Keep their word?"  
"Some did," Noonan admitted, "Some didn't. Those that didn't were hunted down and destroyed. Those that did were left undisturbed,"  
"Like you," Kelsey stated.  
"Like me," Noonan nodded, "I maintained ties to Starfleet Intelligence. I have, in fact, served as a Starfleet officer nearly 10 times in the past 200 years. Up until now I've been content to remain within the Sol system. But the time came when I wanted to return to the time I'd known on Columbia, exploring the unknown reaches of space,"  
"So some things didn't change," Kelsey said solemnly.  
"Some things," Noonan said softly.

Captain's Log, Stardate 58045.6

"With the sudden loss of her Sobek army, we've managed to take possession of K'Eleese's base and apprehend the lunatic once and for all. I hope she's very happy in our brig. And if not, I'm sure a pad of paper and some crayons will make her feel better."  
"The Sobek population of Ecstasy Base has been evacuated onto the Jubilant Death, now renamed T'Parief's Claw. Evidently, the Sobeks, excuse me, the Parians hold both T'Parief and Slezar in very high regard. Makes sense I guess, since Slezar created their race and T'Pareif was their Adam, so to speak. Slezar has plans to request a world for them to colonize when we return our universe. I sure hope the Federation Council doesn't completely freak at the total disregard for genetic engineering laws!"  
"We're on our way back to the portal to pick up my first officer and return home,"

"I hope your people will be happy," Stafford said to T'Parief as they walked down the corridor, Stafford-2 following.  
"My people," T'Parief mused, "Those words are very strange,"  
"I bet," Stafford said, "But hopefully you've gotten a bunch of questions answered,"  
"Some," T'Parief admitted, "I know now why I was created. But I'm still not sure who I am, or who I should be,"  
"Stick with being yourself," Stafford-2 piped in from the rear.  
"Excuse me?" Stafford snapped, "I'm having a discussion with MY officer! Keep your perfectly competent nose out of my business!"  
"Grouch," Stafford-2 muttered.  
"Regardless," Stafford said, "Your father sure did a masterful job of manipulating things. He played us and K'Eleese like a piano!"  
"Um, right," T'Parief failed to see the connection to music, "Slezar was always a brilliant scientist. It was as a father that he lacked skill,"  
At that moment, Ensign Yanick stepped around a corner in the corridor. She and T'Parief looked at each other briefly.  
Unable to endure the cold silence any longer, Yanick gave a small smile and suggestively unzipped the few inches of her uniform top.  
"Excuse me," T'Parief nodded at each Stafford, slung a giggling Ensign Yanick over his shoulder and stepped into the turbolift, "Deck 3!"  
"It's so sweet when a couple gets back together," Stafford sighed.  
"Speaking of which," Stafford-2 said as the two resumed their walk to the transporter room, "I finally figured out why Elaine did what she did,"  
"Oh, did you," Stafford replied carefully as he stepped into the transporter room.  
"Yeah," Stafford-2 said, taking his place on the pad, "It broke her heart to see me, well you, but another version of me, so alone and miserable. So she decided she'd do whatever she could to make you feel loved, even if it was just for a few moments," he sighed wistfully, "She's such a beautiful person that way," straightening up, he nodded at Ensign Pysternzyks, "Energize!"  
Stafford started as what his counterpart said sunk in.  
"Hey!" he snapped, "I was NOT the pity-f**k!"  
But Stafford-2 was already gone.

Captain's Log, Supplemental,  
"We've retrieved Commander Noonan and our runabout and returned to our own universe. Lieutenant Fifebee assures me that the quantum torpedoes we've used have sealed the portal for good this time. You know, until another power mad, happy-hungry despot like K'Eleese opens up another one,"

"I quit," Jeffery said flatly, standing in Stafford's ready room. Sylvia's hologram was standing next to him.  
"Excuse me?" Stafford asked.  
"Temporarily," Sylvia explained, elbowing Jeffery in the side, "We've decided to take Admiral Tunney up on his offer,"  
"We'll be on temporary assignment to several different Operation Salvage ships over the next few months," Jeffery added, "Then back here. If we want to come back," he added.  
"Does Wowryk know?" Stafford asked.  
"She will," Jeffery said.  
"Look, Jeffery," Stafford sighed, "Is this still about me hugging her?"  
"Partly," Jeffery admitted, "Ah mean, Ah know you didn't mean anything by it, and yer just trying to help and all. But if she'll loosen up for you but not me," Stafford winced at the poor choice of words, but Jeffery kept talking, "then maybe what we need is some time apart,"  
"And you?" Stafford turned to Sylvia, "I mean, can we even get you out of the computer core?"  
"Jeffery's made several modifications to my core gel-pack, designed to protect me," Sylvia said, "Incidentally, they will allow my gel-pack to be removed and transferred to another computer system,"  
"I guess if Tunney approves it I don't have much choice, do I?" Stafford said bitterly.  
"Oh honey," Sylvia came around the desk and put an arm around Stafford's shoulders, "Don't be like that! I'll be back before you know it!"  
"Why, Sylvia," Stafford asked, "Is it something we've done? Something I've done?" his eyes flicked to Jeffery as he spoke.  
"Chris," Sylvia smiled, "Of course not. But, you know, every chick has to leave the nest sooner or later,"

Stafford's mood was lifted slightly as his first officer strode into the ready room following Jeffery and Sylvia's return to work.  
"I hear I missed quite a bit of excitement," Noonan smiled,  
"You look happy," Stafford commented.  
"Lieutenant Noonan is a fascinating young woman," Noonan replied, "I found my time with her to be very…therapeutic,"  
"Well, don't get used to it," Stafford growled, "I doubt we're going to be seeing any of those people again. Ever!" he added firmly.  
"Maybe," Noonan mused, "maybe not. As with so many other things, it is only a matter of choice,"

Earth, 2170, Track B

"Honey, I'm home!" Ensign Matthew Noonan called as he stepped into his Montreal home.  
"Matthew!" Amber exclaimed, "What are you doing here? I thought you were on your-"  
"Way to Titan Base?" Noonan grinned, "You know, I was just getting ready to board the shuttle then I realized what I was doing,"  
"And what was that?" Amber asked.  
Noonan took his fiancé into his arms.  
"Making the biggest mistake of my life," he said.  
"You turned down Titan Base?" Amber started, "But, Matt! Your promotion! Your career!"  
"There are always other opportunities," Noonan shrugged, "They're building another shipyard in Earth orbit. They're going to need officers to get it running,"  
"Matt, this is a big decision," Amber said, "Are you sure-"  
"Honey," Noonan said, "I've made my choice. And it's you,"  
Amber blushed, then kissed him hard on the lips.  
"There's another choice we could make?" she breathed.  
Noonan raised an eyebrow.  
Amber reached into a drawer and pulled out a wrapped condom. Pulling a hairpin out from behind her ear, she drove it through the small package, shredding it. Looking up at Noonan, she raised an eyebrow.  
"Good choice," he said.

End

And so ends Silverado, Season Two! (Except for the Halloween Special included as a bonus chaper!) Hope you've enjoyed reading this run of Silverado as much as Starbucks enjoyed taking my money as I wrote it. Best wishes to all and, as always, feedback is welcome. Season 3 is already up on fanfiction, and seasons 1 through 5 are at the Star Traks Nexus and Corner Grocery Store.


	19. Halloween Special 2005

Copyright 2004

Star Traks: Silverado

Halloween Special: "Holo-house of Horrors,"

Author's note: This story is a Special. That means that I'm completely ignoring other impacting events from earlier in the season in order to provide an amusing story carefully timed to coincide with a holiday or event. If you have a problem with this,  
please dunk your head in the nearest horse trough and call me in the morning.

Thank you.

"I think you're chicken," Ensign Trish Yanick taunted her captain from the helm console near the front of the bridge.  
Lieutenant Fifebee's eyebrows rose in alarm.  
"Has the science department been conducting unauthorized experiments again?" she asked, turning to face the front of the bridge.  
Captain Stafford turned in his seat to look at her.  
"Huh?" he asked.  
"Nothing," Fifebee said quickly, "Just trying to make a joke," she turned back to her station, "I show those people one piece of genetic manipulation and now they think they're gods,"  
she mumbled under her breath.  
"Look," Stafford said, turning back to Yanick, "Just because I don't want anything to do with this outdated holiday doesn't mean I'm a scaredy-cat,"  
"Why are we now involving felines?" T'Parief groaned from Tactical, "Chickens, cats, why is it you humans must turn every expression into an all-you-can-eat buffet?"  
"That right there is scarier than any spooky decorations Steven could put up," Jall quipped.  
"At least Mr. T'Parief doesn't need a costume," Noonan said with a soft smile.  
"Look who's talking," Stafford and Fifebee muttered together.  
"I really do love Halloween," Noonan went on, sounding almost wistful, "A celebration of the supernatural. Ghost, goblins and even," something glittered in his eyes, "vampires,"  
"All myths," Stafford waved his hand dismissively, "I'd rather deal with what's real,"  
"If you say so," Noonan grinned. His grin grew into a smile. His smile gave way to chuckles then finally to giggles.  
"Haven't seen him laugh like that in a long time," Yanick said happily, "It's good for him,"  
Finally Noonan regained control of himself.  
"I'm sorry, Captain," he said, "I tend to get a bit excited on Halloween,"  
"Uh-huh," Stafford said slowly.  
"If nothing else," Sylvia piped in, her face appearing on the Port Auxiliary console display, "Steven will have plenty of candy and scary movies in the lounge this evening. That is real enough,"  
"Candy is definitely real," Stafford agreed, "And if Steven's digging out the chocolate then I'm there!"  
"Chocolate makes Ensign Yanick hyper," T'Parief said sadly.  
"Hyper?" Stafford grinned, turning back to regard his security chief.  
"More hyper," T'Parief clarified.  
"Chocolate makes me fat," Jall added, "It goes STRAIGHT to my hips!"  
Stafford and T'Parief exchanged uneasy glances then returned to their duties.  
"This is just far too easy," Simon Jeffery complained later as he lounged comfortably on Dr. Wowryk's couch, "Couldn't ye come up with something more creative? The crew's gonna have a field day with this!"  
"Why do you say that?" Wowryk asked as she stepped out of her bedroom, ducking to avoid hitting her pointed hat against the doorframe, "Simon, did you bring my broom?"  
"Aye," Jeffery sighed, "Yer gonna be the prettiest witch at the party.  
"And where is your costume?" Wowryk asked.  
"In me quarters," Jeffery said, "It's a surprise,"  
"Hmm," Wowryk worked to straighten her corset, "I'm going to see if Nurse Kerry can help tie this corset,"  
"Ah can do it," Simon objected.  
"Thank you, Simon," Wowryk said, looking down her nose. She focused on what Yvonnokoff had told her: he's trying to be helpful. Appreciate his efforts. Not everything is an effort to get sex, "But the tying of corsets is traditionally a task for a woman of lower social standing,"  
"Er, right," Simon decided not to press the issue. He was surprised enough that Noel was participating in the Halloween party instead of condemning the partygoers to Hell or Purgatory or something. He was even more surprised when she decided to go with the corset for that evilly thin' look. But the whole concept of Wowryk being constrained by male/female roles was ridiculous; he knew the real reason she didn't let him help with the costume was because she still wasn't comfortable with him touching her. But he could respect her personal space.  
For now.

"This," Stafford said, surveying Unbalanced Equations, "is really strange,"  
Dozens of crewmen and officers mingled in the lounge,  
which Steven had decorated with Jack-O-Laterns from Earth,  
Jeelug dolls from Trill and Death Day pennants from Vindali 5.  
"Did you know," Fifebee said, sipping a holographic cup of tea, "That 79 percent of Federation worlds celebrate a holiday with a theme on death, ghosts or the supernatural? And that furthermore, 65 percent of those holidays take place during local fall?"  
"Fascinating," Stafford said dryly. Speaking of ghosts,  
there goes Crewman Shwaluk covered head to toe in a white sheet. On his arm was Nurse Kerry in a strapping Joan of Arc outfit.  
Yanick had surprised everybody by showing up dressed as a Klingon, elaborate makeup giving her the look and plenty of synthehol giving her the loud and boisterous disposition.  
Jall had shown up wearing a military camouflage uniform from the 21st century and had already annoyed the hell out of several people by chanting this is my rifle, this is my gun' until Yanick smacked him upside the head. Noonan was stealing the show in a beautiful tuxedo; his skin gleamed like polished ivory and his gestures were even more fluid than normal. A pair of fake fang teeth, at least everybody assumed they were fake, were visible when he smiled. Sipping his wine, he moved from group to group,  
easing in and out of conversations as easily as one might sink into a hot bubble bath.  
"Halloween can be such a freeing experience," he said to Stafford in passing. He gestured to where Dr. Wowryk was just coming through the door, pointed had sticking up above the crowd,  
"In some cases, it can be a chance to express ourselves as we really are,"  
"Well," Stafford grinned, "Wowryk sure hit things dead-on with her costume!"  
Becky, one of the waitresses, was wearing a French Maid's uniform while Nurse Veeneman was wearing a perfect replica of a nurse's uniform from the 1950's era.  
"I figured we should have one medical-type person on duty," she giggled, after catching Stafford staring at her, er, assets.  
"Yeah," he pulled his eyes away and returned his attention to Fifebee, "So what did you dress up as, anyway?" She was wearing a strange, flowing black gown and her hair had been freed from its customary bun to cascade down her back.  
"I am Mrs. Addams," Fifebee said in a cool yet polite voice.  
"You're dress is, um," Stafford searched for the phrase,  
"It's kinda tight,"  
"Thank you,"  
"I didn't mean it that way!" Stafford shot back, "It's tight. That's it. I'm not noticing' anything!"  
"Please," Fifebee sniffed, "You get so little female attention you'd hit on Sylvia if she had breasts! Or a body!"  
"That's just wrong on levels I can't even begin to describe!" Stafford objected, "And besides, I got laid by-"  
"By a Senousian Prefect," Jeffery cut in, joining the conversation, "Aye, we know! Ye've been milking that experience for far too many months now!"  
"Who the hell are you?" Stafford demanded.  
"I'm yer bud, so I get to say stuff like that about you-"  
Jeffery started.  
"No, I mean who are you dressed up as? All I see is a weird engineer with a dress, a pointy stick and a pair of, ugh, what the hell did they go those eye thingies? Mugs?"  
"It's a robe, not a dress, and they're called glasses! Ah'm Harry Potter," Jeffery said proudly, brandishing a wooden stick,  
"This is me magic wand!"  
"Some of us don't need extra magic wands!" Stafford said with a smile, "the ones we were born with are magical enough!"  
Jeffery and Fifebee looked at him blankly.  
"I need a woman in my life," Stafford sighed.

"Another Gorn Gutwrencher, my big handsome man?"  
Yanick slurred, draped as she was on T'Parief's arm.  
"Please, my mighty warrior," T'Parief smiled. As Yanick ambled over to the bar, T'Parief looked up just in time to see Noel Wowryk stride by in full costume: Black pointed hat,  
old-fashioned green dress, fake warts and a ratty old broomstick.  
She said something to Noonan who smiled widely, giving T'Parief a very clear view of two very real fang teeth.  
He looked at his empty mug, back to Wowryk, over to Noonan and then back to his mug again.  
"Trish," he called out, "Better make it two!"

"Well, isn't this stereotypical!" Stafford smirked as Wowryk passed by, little Luke glaring at the surrounding crowd from where he was cradled in one arm "At least somebody was thinking when they picked their costume!"  
"And what are you dressed up as, Captain?" Wowryk asked, "A jerk?"  
"I'm a Changeling," Stafford said indignantly, "They look just like everybody else!"  
"That's lame," Jeffery said.  
"Hey, she doesn't need your help," Stafford complained.  
"But you sure do," Wowryk smiled.  
"You don't scare me!" Stafford said.  
Wowryk lunged at Stafford, who cringed back.  
"I just wanted to respect your private space," Stafford said as Wowryk smiled triumphantly at him.  
/You are all incompetent buffoons,/ Luke/Lord Stalart grumped telepathically, /One day, my race shall conquer you all!/  
"Guys, ladies, play nice," Samantha said as she eased into the group, a tray of drinks balanced on one hand. Samantha was one of the waitresses in the lounge, and was generally good at calming down the guys, "Here, drinks are on the house,"  
"They're always on the house," Fifebee pointed out before a sharp look from Samantha silenced her.  
"What you folks need," Samantha said, "is a good old-fashioned Halloween scare!"  
"We've already seen Jall tonight," Jeffery quipped.  
"Something fun," Samantha said with a sexy smile,  
"Sometime spooky. Something like, a haunted house!"

"Here are the rules," Sylvia said as she processed the program Samantha had given her, "I can't tell you what's in the house. The only way in or out is through the front gate of the estate, which leads out of the holodeck. If anybody on your team leaves the holodeck, your team looses. If any of you loose bowel or bladder control, your team looses,"  
"Ewww," Yanick said.  
"Whichever team stays in the house overnight will win,"  
Sylvia finished.  
"What if we're both in there overnight?" Wowryk asked. She'd left Luke with Lesli Kerry for the evening, no doubt greatly interrupting any romantic plans she and Crewman Shwaluk might have had. At least by putting Luke in their care she had prevented any possible non-marital coitus.  
"Then it's a tie," Sylvia said, "D'uh! You don't need bio-neural circuitry to figure that one out!"  
Wowryk glared at Jeffery.  
"What?" Jeffery said, "Ah didn't program her! It's not MY fault!"  
Sylvia sighed and opened the holodeck doors, revealing a gloomy looking driveway. A full moon was visible behind the pitch-black silhouette of the house.  
"Program complete, enter when ready," she said in a resigned, bored tone, "Have fun'. Hmph!"

The six officers walked up the broken and overgrown driveway to the house itself, Wowryk in her witch costume, Yanick dressed as a Klingon and Fifebee in her Morticia Addams dress. Jeffery was wearing his Harry Potter custume, complete with lightning shaped scar. T'Parief didn't need a costume but had instead worn what would be considered normal garb for him at home; a leather tunic over baggy leather pants, bands of spikes on his elbows, knees and wrists and a trail of prosthetic head-spikes running down the center of his head, Mohawk-style. Stafford still hadn't bothered to dress up.  
"It doesn't look THAT scary," Jeffery said, looking up at the dark, foreboding shape of the house.  
"If you're Frankenstein maybe," Stafford grumbled. "Chris, what are ye complaining about?" Jeffery slapped T'Parief on the back, "We've got our own Frankenstein right here!" T'Parief grunted.  
The house itself was huge, with a bulbous central section and several slender towers sticking up from the sides. The paint was faded, but the windows were intact and the massive front door was firmly closed.  
"Whipstaff?" Stafford read from a sign, "Never heard of it?"  
"You've never seen Casper, the Friendly Ghost'?" Yanick asked.  
"Nope," Stafford said. Then, under his breath, "But I bet you have,"  
"This domicile is from a movie?" Fifebee asked, worry in her voice.  
"Aye," Jeffery said, "But don't worry, it was programmed in the safe, old-fashioned way. No holo-brainwashing this time!"  
"Good," Stafford said, pulling the door open, "We call the second floor,"  
"OK," Yanick, Fifebee and Wowryk agreed.  
Stafford looked at them suspiciously as T'Parief and Jeffery shone their lights into the house.  
"You agreed pretty easily," he said.  
"We're always easy," Fifebee said innocently.  
"Right. In what parallel universe?" Jeffery muttered,  
glancing at Wowryk.  
"Well, since you asked," Wowryk said, "We'd rather have the main floor. It's closer to the exit,"  
"So you can run, hide and lose?" T'Parief asked.  
"So we can escape,"  
"Uh-huh," Stafford smirked, "But think of this: it's also closer to the basement. Which is where most of the creepy things like to hang out," he grabbed the dusty banister and started climbing the steps, "Have a nice night!"

"This is going to be SOO much fun!" Yanick said happily. She and Wowryk were camped out in the middle of the cavernous main entrance hall while Fifebee fooled around with the fuse box,  
"We can tell ghost stories, and talk about boys and-"  
"Ghosts don't exist," Wowryk cut her off, "And boys are evil-"  
"Jesus was a boy," Yanick interrupted.  
"Yes, but," Wowryk was quiet, "OK, you've got me on that one. Not all men are evil,"  
"Men can be fun!" Yanick said, "T'Parief is fun, and we've never done anything naughty,"  
"Because he can't!"  
"Ohh!" Yanick clapped her hands, "See? We're already talking about boys!"  
There was a soft buzz, then the lights in the hall came on.  
"And now we have power too!"

"How come THEY get lights?" Stafford grumbled as the three of them sat in the dark in a spacious drawing room.  
"We do not need light," T'Parief said. In the dim illumination from Jeffery's flashlight he looked especially demonic; his eyes reflecting only deep red and dark shadows emphasizing the predatory cast of his features, "We will hunt our enemy in the pitch black of night, rending him limb from limb!"  
"We don't have an enemy yet! Jeffery said.  
"I was just getting into the moment," T'Parief said. Stafford could have sworn the reptilian officer sounded embarrassed.  
"So," Jeffery asked, "What do we do?"  
"We have to stay here the night," Stafford said, "I say we sleep,"  
"No way!" Jeffery said, "There's no fun in that!"  
"Then what?" Stafford asked, "Sit here and twiddle our thumbs?"  
"This gives us an opportunity to bond, as comrades,"  
T'Parief said, "and to share experiences, man to man." Stafford was surprised.  
"Bond?" he said, "With us?"  
"Forget it," T'Parief said, "I did not realize it was a problem,"  
"No, it's not that!" Stafford said, "I, uh, just sort of figured that you didn't like any of us,"  
"With all respect sir," T'Parief said, "That is because Jall is usually with you,"  
"Oh. Right."  
"So," Jeffery asked, "Um, what made ye decide to join Starfleet?"  
"To meet new races and explore the galaxy," T'Parief said,  
"why else?"  
"To meet new and intelligent forms of life," Jeffery said,  
poking through the room's dusty old furniture "And kill them?"  
"That is the slogan of the Gorn Armada," T'Parief said, "I am more than just Gorn,"  
"Klingon and Andorian," Stafford mused, "Have you ever been to Andor?"  
"I went with my mother to meet her father's hive," T'Parief said.  
"Cool!"  
"Not really," T'Parief stately flatly, "They attempted to kill her and run us both off the planet,"  
"Oh,"  
"I was 16 at the time," T'Parief went on, "I fought off an assassination squad sent to kill her. After that, they accepted us into the hive,"  
"Charming,"  
"AHHHH," Jeffery screamed.  
Stafford and T'Parief jumped to their feet.  
"What?"  
"There's a mouse under this dresser!" Jeffery snapped.  
"Oh come on," Stafford groaned, "who's afraid of a harmless, little-"  
T'Parief roared as the tiny rodent scurried out from under the dresser, jumping up and knocking Stafford to the ground as the mouse scurried up the inside of T'Parief's trouser leg.

"What the hell is going on up there?" Yanick wondered as the sounds of shouting and banging about wafted down from the upstairs balcony.  
"I don't know," Fifebee said, "But I have finished repairing the stove. We can now make hot chocolate, as requested,"  
"Yes!" Yanick said happily, "Oh, speaking of which, do you know Ensign Day?"  
"Of course," Fifebee replied, hunting though the dusty old cupboard for a kettle, "But what does he have to do with hot chocolate?"  
"He's hot," Yanick said, "and his skin's the colour of milk chocolate,"  
"How irrelevant," Wowryk sighed.  
"But, y'know," Yanick grinned, "If you ever wanted to try out some, er, y'know, fun "  
"Ensign Day is a Deltan," Fifebee said, "Intercourse with a Deltan usually ends up overloading the minds of most other species, resulting in catatonia or madness,"  
"You're a hologram," Yanick said.  
"True,"  
At this point their conspiracy was interrupted as Wowryk ran by screaming.  
"What's wrong?" Fifebee immediately asked.  
"In the bathroom!" Wowryk gibbered, "It's AWFUL!"  
Yanick peeked into the old bathroom. Mildew grew in the shower and a layer of soap scum coated the sink and bathtub. In the center of the dusty mirror was a clean patch where Wowryk had been trying to see herself.  
"In the mirror!" Wowryk hissed.  
Yanick looked in, saw her reflection. Hmmm it looked like her fake Klingon ridges were starting to come off Suddenly, her face started changing. Her nose and mouth ran together, oozing out into a blunt muzzle as her skin changed to a dull brownish green, scales forming on her cheeks as her hair fell out in clumps.  
"That's pretty gross," Yanick said, stepping back. She had remained unchanged, only her reflection had been altered, "What did you see? Yourself as a man?"  
Wowryk shuddered delicately.  
"Worse," she shook her head, "Myself in Jall's body! Again!"  
The three women exchanged a glance.  
"EWWWWW!"  
"Well," Stafford said, crossing his arms as Jeffery scraped mouse parts off his boot, "I guess that solves that,"  
"Is it gone?" T'Parief asked from his perch atop an oversized fainting couch.  
"Uh, yeah," Stafford said, "It's gone."  
"I assure you, I am still a fully competent security chief,"  
T'Parief said, climbing uneasily down to the floor.  
"Until we get invaded by a race of giant mice," Stafford sighed.  
"The giant ones do not frighten me," T'Parief said, "They do not squirm or scamper,"  
Lightening flashed and thunder crashed outside the house as the skies opened up with a torrential downpour.  
Nobody moved.  
"Nobody's scared of lighting then?" Stafford asked.  
"No," Jeffery shook his head.  
"Not I," T'Parief affirmed.  
"IT'S THE WRATH OF GOD!" Wowryk screamed, diving for cover under the table, "THE ALMIGHTY HAS COME TO STRIKE DOWN THE LOWLY SINNERS!"  
"It's the holodeck," Fifebee said, "It is no more frightening than I am,"  
"This stupid makeup is really starting to itch," Yanick complained Wowryk wailed as another thunderbolt shook the old house.  
"What was that!" Yanick started to quiver.  
"What? Where?" Fifebee looked around, adjusting her visual scanners for lower light levels.  
"On that wall!"  
Another flash brightened the windows, sending spindly shadows on the far wall.  
"It is merely a shadow," Fifebee sighed, shaking her head "And they say Starfleet represents humanity's finest?"

Three hours later

"We're never going to win at this rate," Jeffery said,  
"We're up here sitting in the dark, and they're having a slumber party!"  
"Once they coaxed Dr. Wowryk out from under the table,"  
T'Parief commented. The storm had passed for the most part, after two hours of some of the most impressive thunder and lightening any of them had ever seen.  
"I'll have to remember that," Jeffery said, "She's terrified of lightening,"  
"Don't use your powers for evil," Stafford laughed.  
"So how do we scare them all out of the holodeck?" Jeffery wondered.  
"Something big and scary?" Stafford suggested.  
T'Parief sighed.  
"Not you," Stafford assured him.  
Jeffery looked at T'Parief, then at Stafford.  
"Hmmm "

Sylvia sat, figuratively speaking, in the center of the main computer core surrounded by a whirlwind of data. Sensor data,  
processed and analyzed and delivered to display screens, control input feeds and commands going out to various systems all vied for her attention, though many of the data feeds she simply allocated to non-sentient computer resources for processing. Who wanted to calculate pi to the 500th digit anyway?  
But it was probably time to see what was happening in Holodeck 2. There hadn't been any requests for her attention since the program had been activated.  
Taking a look inside, Sylvia was amused by what she saw.  
"This isn't scary!" she exclaimed to herself. Focusing her attention on Stafford she laughed out loud.  
"Ohhh, boys," she laughed, "That's not exactly fair now, is it? What say we even things up a bit, hmmm?"

"Promise me we will never tell Jall of this," T'Parief said. Stafford had dug through the bedrooms until he had found a woman's makeup table. Smearing himself with white goop, he'd transformed his face into a hideously ghoulish visage. Climbing up on T'Parief's shoulders and clinging to the huge alien, the two of them towered over Jeffery as he draped a dusty gray sheet over Stafford's shoulders. With Stafford's face and T'Parief's clawed hands, the two of them made a ghastly sight.  
"This will scare the hell out of them," Stafford smirked,  
looking in the mirror.  
"It is scaring the hell out of me," T'Parief shuddered as Stafford's arm brushed one of the sensitive sensory nodes on the top of his head.  
"C'mon, T'Parief," Jeffery said, "Ye wanted to bond, we're bonding. Scaring women on Halloween is a time honored male tradition!"  
"As though I didn't have enough traditions to keep straight," T'Parief sighed.  
"I promise that once we win, we can spend the rest of the night talking about battles and fights and all that," Stafford said.  
"How typical," T'Parief snorted, "You did not consider that perhaps I wanted to spend the evening drinking beer and watching porn?"  
"Uh," Stafford looked down at Jeffery, who shrugged and shook his head, "Not really,"  
"Good," T'Parief nodded, nearly knocking Stafford of his back, "Because I don't. Battles would be acceptable. But perhaps we could also discuss some of the old Earth cartoons I have become fond of?"  
"I don't think the Hazardous Team would approve,"  
Stafford chuckled, "But I think we can do that anyway!"  
T'Parief carefully maneuvered the two of them down the hall, smacking Stafford's head square against at least three doorframes. When the reached the balcony overlooking the entrance hall and leading to the stairs, Stafford gulped.  
"Maybe," he said, looking down the drop, "I should have climbed onto your shoulders AFTER we climbed down the stairs?"

"We better be sure Simon doesn't find out that you're afraid of lightening," Yanick said as the three women sat around the table sipping hot chocolate and playing cards.  
"Because he'll use my weakness in a despicable attempt to claim my virginity?" Wowryk asked.  
"Um, no," Yanick said, "But he'll use it to get some close cuddling,"  
"Hmmm," Wowryk mused, "According to Yvonnokoff,  
cuddling isn't sinful,"  
"According to Yvonnokoff, Billy of Everglad 5 should be spending more time exploring his feminine side," Fifebee pointed out.  
"Good point," Wowryk said, "She also said that fanatic devotion to ancient religions can be damaging to ones social life,"  
Yanick and Fifebee exchanged glances.  
"Complete gibberish," Fifebee said quickly.  
"Totally off the mark," Yanick added.  
THUMP "Did you feel that?" Fifebee asked.  
"Yeah," Yanick said.  
THUMP "What's happening?" Wowryk cried.  
"The door!" Yanick screamed.  
As they watched, the door to the main hall shook again as something struck it hard. With this last hit the latch snapped and the door slammed inward, revealing-  
"AHHHHH!"

"Did you hear that?" Stafford asked his mount as T'Parief carefully navigated the stairs running down the outer wall of the main hall.  
"I would have, if your forearm was not blocking my left ear!"  
"Hey, watch the dorsal ridge! You're going to crush my tes-"  
"Please, Captain. Stop right there."  
"Maybe this wasn't such a great idea," Jeffery sighed from further up the stairs.  
"Dumbass," Stafford and T'Parief muttered.  
The three looked down to see Fifebee, Wowryk and Yanick running across the main hall to the staircase, screaming as they fled. Behind them was a dark shape, scampering through the shadows.  
"Uh-oh," Stafford muttered as the three girls pushed past him and T'Parief. Staggering back, T'Parief snagged his foot on the dirty carpet covering the staircase and slipped sideways,  
sending Stafford plummeting over the railing.  
CRUNCH  
"Captain!" T'Parief called, "Are you OK?"  
"Yeah," Stafford's voice drifty up, disoriented but unharmed, "Whatever was chasing them broke my fall. Man, what a mess!"  
"Uh, should we calm down the ladies?" Jeffery shouted down, gesturing up the stairs to where the others had ran,"  
"The point is to scare them out of the house, not comfort them!" Stafford shouted back, freeing himself of the oozing carcass he'd landed on. It looked for all the worlds like a giant crab, with a pair of giant pincers and several legs sprouting out of a dull red carapace. Stafford had landed dead-center on the creature's body,  
slamming it into the floor.  
"But I did find us dinner," he said.

Annoyed, Sylvia watched from the computer's cyber-space as Stafford, Jeffery and T-Parief ate buttered crab-legs while Fifebee, Wowryk and Yanick huddled in a third floor bedroom. So, that hadn't exactly gone according to plan. Time to pull out the heavy artillery.

"This isn't really all that scary so far," Jeffery said.  
"I agree," T'Parief rumbled.  
"At least we've taken care of our seafood cravings,"  
Stafford belched loudly, throwing a glance at the hollowed out carapace of the giant crab, "For the next hundred years or so,"  
T'Parief's cocked his head and held up a shushing hand.  
"What?" Stafford asked.  
"Do you hear-"  
Then he vanished.

"Guys?" Stafford asked, looking around the empty kitchen. He was stunned. There had been no transporter effect, no dematerialization at all. T'Parief and Jeffery were simply gone.  
Starfleet had regulations and procedures for these kind of situations, of course. But this was the holodeck! The safety protocols were engaged and Sylvia was keeping an eye on them.  
So rather than staying in the kitchen and calling for backup,  
Stafford slowly poked his nose out into the main hall.  
"Nice," Jeffery nodded approvingly after recovering from the shock of T'Parief and Stafford's disappearance. Clearly, due to the lack of transporter effect, false holograms had been directed between him and the others, giving the illusion that he was alone. All holodecks worked that way; using inertial fields and optical illusions to give the impression of an infinitely large open space,  
when in reality you were in a big room. The holodeck couldn't be large enough for your friends to be half a mile away during a holographic ski trip, but it could make it LOOK as though they were.  
"Somebody talked you into playing, huh Sylvia?" Jeffery asked the ceiling. There was no response, nor did he really expect one. So the haunted house program, or Sylvia, wanted them split up. Fine, Jeffery was game.

T'Parief crept silently through the huge house, trying hard not to notice the eyes in the paintings hanging on the walls. Like Trish's potpourri lizards, the paintings seemed to be staring straight at him.  
Sniffing the air, he could detect only traces of the others. But there was another smell. Tasty, appetizing, like fresh Mousies,  
the all-natural, all-rodent breakfast cereal preferred by 9 out of 10 Gorn.  
And the smell was coming from a disturbing painting of a large lizard being attacked by an army of tiny rodents.  
Terror spiked in T'Parief's chest as he backed away.  
"You wouldn't dare!" he hissed at the holodeck.  
The tiny eyes in the painting came to life, seconds before hundreds of mice began to pour out of the painting.

"Hello, handsome,"  
Stafford turned at once to face the beautiful women who had suddenly appeared in the rear foyer, silhouetted by the bright full moon.  
"Want to have a little fun?" sighed a second girl, smiling shyly at Stafford.  
"We have ways of pleasing you that you can't begin to image," promised a third.  
"Well," Stafford grinned, "I like where this holo-program is going!"  
The light faded as clouds obscured the moon.  
With a cry of torment, the women transformed; their legs merging and lengthening into snake-like tails as their skin changed to a sickly green. Their eyes glowed a hideous red as dozens of snakes erupted from their heads.  
"HOLY SHIT!" Stafford screamed, scrabbling backwards,  
"I don't like where this is going anymore!"

Jeffery flinched as he heard screams. He ran down the hallways, through rooms and around columns, but the house seemed to go on forever. He couldn't find Stafford, T'Parief or the ladies. He couldn't find anybody! He was lost and alone.  
Gasping for breath, he emerged in a large open space, a den of some kind, with a huge pipe organ filling one end of the room.  
Gulping, he stepped in and turned to survey his surroundings.  
The organ came to life, a deep and somehow disturbing chord piercing the air.  
Jeffery spun to face the instrument, but the keyboards were undisturbed, nobody sat on the velvet cushion.  
"AH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"  
"OK," Jeffery said as the deep laughter rumbled, "This is getting more cheesy than scary!"  
The organ came to life again. This time, when Jeffery spun around he found a tall, Frankensteinian behemoth of a man at the keyboards, drawing a disturbing but strangely beautiful melody out.  
"What game should we play with him, Pugsly?" a short,  
grim girl with pale skin and jet-black hair asked. Jeffery spun around, facing her. He was sure she hadn't been in the room before, but she was definitely here now! At least now he knew what Fifebee would have looked like as a kid.  
"I dunno, Wednesday," a taller but thicker boy said,  
"Bobbing for Crocodiles?"  
"Too messy," Wednesday replied, "Christians and Lions?"  
"Father said not to feed Kitty table scraps," Pugsley reminded his sister.  
"Very well," Wednesday said gravely, "Then there is only one other option,"  
"Uh," Jeffery tried to break in, "Uh, hi little girl-"  
"This game," Wednesday said, facing Jeffery for the first time as a steel cage dropped into place around him, "Is called: Is There a God'?"  
"Y'know," Jeffery gulped, gripping the bars, "Ah think my girlfriend would be MUCH better for that game,"  
Wednesday rummaged around in a trunk for several seconds, coming up finally with a good sized hatchet. With a deft toss, she sent it flying straight at Jeffery.

"Do you think it's gone?" Yanick asked Fifebee.  
"Judging from the screams below?" Fifebee replied, "I think not,"  
"Maybe the guys are being eaten," Wowryk mused.  
"I doubt it," Fifebee said, "the holodeck safeties-"  
"Hey," Yanick interrupted, "What's this?"  
Her hand had come across a dusty piece of paper. She quickly brought it under the one light they had managed to get working.  
"'When you're in need, a friend indeed'," Wowryk read,  
"Well, we are certainly in need,"  
"There's a name here," Yanick said, "Batelgoose?"  
"Oh dear," Fifebee said, grabbing the flyer, "If my pop-culture database is correct-"  
"Betelgeuse," Wowryk read from the sheet, using the correct pronunciation.  
"What? Yanick cringed, "Beetlejuice? That's gross!"  
"Ladies," Fifebee cut in, "I really suggest you don'-t"  
"Yeah," Wowryk said, "'When you're in a need, a friend indeed! Call Betelgeuse-"  
"Beetlejuice?" Yanick repeated, looking at the flyer "Oh! Do they mean the star system? There's a star with that name not far from Rigel," she frowned, "I didn't know that's how you pronounced it though,"  
"Doctor, Ensign," Fifebee said, "I really must insist that you NOT say that name again!"  
"Why not?" Wowryk asked.  
"Yeah!" Yanick said, "I mean, I have a friend who lives on a colony near Betel-"  
Fifebee slapped her hand over Yanick's mouth.  
"Nobody say Beetlejuice'!" she snapped.  
"But you just said it," Wowryk pointed out.  
"I know!" Fifebee snapped, "Please trust me: if one of us says that name three times, we are in for a world of hurt,"  
"So we cannot say Betel-" Wowryk cut herself off as Fifebee's hand moved towards her mouth, "Fine! I'll just sing praises to our Lord God instead!"  
"Which can't we say?" Yanick wondered, "Beetlejuice the name, or Betelgeuse the star?"  
"Oh dear," Fifebee dropped her face into her hands as the house started to shake, "I've been partnered with the two village idiots,"

"Honestly, ladies," Stafford said frantically as he tried to open the locked door to the hallway, "I really think you're more T'Parief's type,"  
"We don't think ssssoooo," hissed one of the three Medusa women.  
"We think you look far tasssstier," added the second.

T'Parief's mind was far from coherent thought as he thrashed under a veritable mountain of rodents. His claws were extending and his vice-like jaws were snapping as he fought to rid himself of the tiny, white-furred vermin that clung to his uniform. For every mouse crushed, slashed or tossed away, two more appeared to take its place. Already what little intelligence there was in T'Parief's mind at the moment was contemplating the nearest route to the exit.

Jeffery flinched back as the razor-sharp hatched flew straight for his head-  
Only to be intercepted by a dashing, mustachioed man with slick, black hair and an amused expression.  
"Wednesday," he said sternly, "Pugsly. What are you doing in my den?"  
"We're just playing, Father," Wednesday explained.  
"With a six-inch hatchet?" Gomez shook his head, "I don't think so,"  
Wednesday hung her head.  
Jeffery collapsed against the bars of his cage with relief.  
"Thank ye so much!" he gasped, "Thank ye! Thank ye to every photon in your holographic soul!"  
Ignoring him, Gomez turned to his son.  
"Pugsley, put this away," he turned to his daughter and shook a firm finger, "Remember Wednesday," he said as he pulled the release on Jeffery's cage, "Shooting fish in a barrel isn't really fishing!"  
"Huh?" Jeffery asked, slowly stepping backward.  
"Ah, thank you," Gomez said as a disembodied hand handed him a slim sword, "Now," he said to his children,  
"Remember: always go for a major artery!" He lunged at Jeffery, who screamed and ran full tilt towards the exit, only to find it blocked by the huge man who had been playing the organ before. Grunting, he handed Jeffery a slim sword and pointed to the onrushing Gomez.  
"Aw, F**K!" Jeffery cried, holding the sword up.

"Ladies," Stafford gasped desperately as the hideous Medusa-women converged on him, "Really! I'm a starship captain! I'm married to my ship!"  
The ladies, clearly unimpressed, made it very clear that Stafford was about to become a conquest.  
"I'm celibate!" he screamed, "I'm a Catholic priest! I'm a eunich! Just don't TOUCH MEEEE!"  
Suddenly, the women vanished into thin air.  
"Oh thank God," Stafford sighed, straightening his uniform.  
"God had nothing to do with it!" a rather nasty voice said behind Stafford.  
Stafford spun around, finding himself face to face with a ghastly pale man with white hair, deeply sunken eyes, crooked,  
rotting teeth and body odour that would stop a Klingon.  
"Who the HELL are you?!" Stafford demanded, grabbing his nose as he took a step back.  
"What? WHAAT?" the man laughed loudly, "You didn't hear those women of yours screaming my name?" there was a pop' and his face became a pasty, rotten-toothed facsimile of Fifebee.  
"We are in for a world of hurt!" he cried out in Fifebee's voice.  
"Q?" Stafford tried, naming an omnipotent entity that had caused Starfleet numerous problems in the past.  
DING DING DING!  
The man's hands had transformed into a large bell and hammer, which he clanged loudly in Stafford's face.  
"Wrong again, Chrissy the Sissy!" he howled.  
Stafford was beyond speech now.  
"I guess I missed my big intro, didn't I?" the man giggled before snapping his fingers and vanishing.  
I'm going to die, Jeffery realized to himself, Holodeck safeties or not, I'm going to DIE!  
On pure instinct he ripped the wooden wand he'd worn as part of his costume out of his cloak, prayed that the holodeck pop-culture subroutine was paying attention, flicked it at the oncoming Latino and screamed:  
"WINGARDIAN LEVIOUSA!"  
Gomez stopped dead in his tracks. Jeffery, astonished,  
stepped backwards.  
"Now WHAT was THAT?" Gomez demanded. Looking down, Jeffery could see that Gomez's feet were firmly on the ground. He had not, in fact, levitated Gomez as Harry Potter and his friends might have done.  
"I invite you in here for a friendly duel," Gomez went on,  
"And you, you yell silly words while pointing a stick at me?"  
Jeffery gulped.  
"Lurch, show our guest the door," Gomez snapped.  
Jeffery gulped as a huge hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and swung him firmly towards the solid oak door-  
Which disappeared as a deep cackling laugh filled the room.  
In different parts of the sprawling house, all six members of the group looked up as laughter filled the rooms, echoing off the walls and resonating in the huge main hall. With a tear like a thousand pairs of too-small polyester pants, the carpets ripped from the floors as the paintings on the walls sprang to life, screaming in terror as the house reformed. Straight hallways took on jagged corners and rounded walls grew sharp edges. Windows collapsed into uneven holes in the wall as lightbulbs melted into waxy candles.  
Stafford and Jeffery, running from separate wings of the house, tripped as the smooth floor suddenly grew ramps and inclines, slamming into each other and landing on a hard step that hadn't been there before.  
"Jeffery!" Stafford snapped, "What's going on?"  
"Ah dunno!" Jeffery shot back, "This isn't my program!"  
"Samantha?"  
"Ah don't think she's this clever!" Jeffery said.  
"Captain!" Stafford spun, nearly tripping on the uneven floor as T'Parief popped out of the door leading to the kitchen.  
"T'Parief!" Stafford shouted back, "I'm glad to see you!"  
"There's the exit!" Jeffery said, pointing out the open front door. Down at the end of the driveway was the holodeck arch that led out of their hellish simulation.  
"No," T'Parief clamped a meaty hand on Jeffery's shoulder before the smaller man could bolt.  
"But-" Jeffery pointed at the trees, which had grown gaping mouths and were using their branches to spear small birds, which they ate with loud CRUNCHing noises.  
"Ick," Stafford turned slightly green.  
"We will not lose," T'Parief said simply. He turned and moved quickly towards the stairs, which now resembled nothing more than a bizarre mineral formation.  
"Where are you going?" Stafford asked.  
"Trish and the others are up there!" T'Parief replied.  
Stafford and Jeffery exchanged looks.  
"It IS just a holodeck," Stafford shrugged, moving after T'Parief.  
Jeffery gave one last look at the exit, whimpered then followed after the other two.

"So, you babes here all for me?"  
MFUFFLE Fifebee yelled. Or tried to. She'd tried to eliminate the interloper by the method suggested by her pop-culture database; saying his name again three times, but before she could get it out a third time, he'd snapped his fingers and conjured a solid metal plate over her mouth.  
FREEAMS! Fifebee tried to shout at Yanick, holding up three fingers.  
"You really stink, mister," Yanick said, ignoring Fifebee.  
"Oh, I don't know," Beetlejuice said, leaning close in to Yanick, "I'm not so bad, once you get to know me,"  
"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!" T'Parief snarled, slamming the door to the upstairs drawing room clear off its hinges, "Get your filthy face away from my girl!"  
Beetlejuice grinned.  
"You're dating the lizard?" he smirked, "Wow, toots. You've got even worse taste than a sandworm!"  
"That not very nice, Mr. Juice," Yanick snapped.  
"Juice?" Stafford asked, coming up behind T'Parief and eying the newcomer uneasily.  
"Beetlejuice," Wowryk explained. She'd been fairly quiet,  
losing interest in the holodeck program the more ridiculous it became.  
"Hey," Beetlejuice complained, "Watch it, Doc, or I'll-"  
"Beetlejuice?" Stafford repeated to himself, "Like the star?"  
"Actually," T'Parief said, "The proper pronunciation is Betalgeuse',"  
"Yeah," Stafford said, "That's what I said. Beetlejuice!"  
"Hey, I'm trying to terrify you people here," Beetleuice complained, "Stop blabbering like a pair of old housewives and PAY ATTENTION TO ME!"  
He clapped his hands together. A gag appeared in Stafford's mouth, a tutu around T'Parief's waist and a steaming pile of haggis appeared in mid-air over Jeffery's head, spilling all over him in a steaming mess.  
"I really don't like this guy," Jeffery complained.  
"I concur," T'Parief agreed, ripping of the frilly skirt, "I seem to recall this character from an ancient Earth cartoon, but I cannot remember how to get rid of him," "RID OF ME?"  
Beetlejuice screamed, "OK, now you're making me MAD!"  
As he spoke, his head started to swell, growing and darkening, tentacle-like tendrils slipping from his nose and mouth. Expanding until he towered over the Silverado officers, he cackled as snakes erupted from his hair like a bad case of dandruff, the ceiling of the room expanding to accommodate him.  
"Now I'm getting scared," Jeffery said, "Holograms really shouldn't have this much control over the holodeck!"  
"He really is quite perverse," Wowryk said, before a sudden flash of lightning sent her jumping a foot into the air.  
"Um, let's run!" Jeffery said, grabbing Wowryk by the arm and running out into the hall. The others quickly followed.  
"Let's go this way!" Stafford said, pointing towards one of the halls that led deeper into the house. He'd finally pulled the gag off.  
"Nay, ye don't wanna do that," Jeffery advised, "Unless ye like crazy Gothic Latinos with swords!"  
"He's gaining!" Yanick cried, pointing back. Beetlejuice had turned himself into a gigantic snake and was following them as they ran.  
"I really don't like snakes!" Stafford cried.  
"The exit's right here!" Wowryk shouted, pointing out the door.  
OTS Fifebee muttered, shaking her head, iron plate still firmly in place.  
"What about the contest?" Yanick asked.  
"You heard Sylvia," Stafford said, "If we both leave, it's a tie. I can live with that,"  
"Me too!" Yanick agreed.  
They bolted for the holodeck arch.  
"NOT SO FASSST!" thundered the huge Beetle-snake from behind them, "I think it's time for a little appetizer!"  
"Look, buddy," Stafford said, "Maybe in the holodeck you're big and bad, but to the outside world, you're just a weird holo-program. Sylvia! Exit! End program!"  
"NOOOOO!" Beetlejuice gave out one last scream as the program vanished, revealing four walls covered in holo-emitters.  
"Congratulations!" Sylvia said happily, her materializing right in front of the holodeck exit, "You all lose!"  
"What?" Jeffery demanded, "Ye said if we left at the same time, it'd be a tie!"  
"No," Sylvia said, "I said if you all stayed in there overnight it would be a tie. I also said that if a member of your team left the holodeck, you would lose. You all left. So you all lose," she gave a cheery smile, "I suppose adding that Beetlejuice hologram was a tad mean. But oh well! Better luck next time!"  
"Bitch" Stafford, T'Parief and Jeffery muttered quietly.  
"I heard that quite perfectly by the way,"  
Nosy bitch they thought to themselves.  
"I can guess what you're thinking now!" Sylvia declared.  
"Good NIGHT, Sylvia!" Stafford snapped.

Stafford sat in Unbalanced Equations. The last of the Halloween party-goers were just clearing out, the time being around 0400 hours. He was sipping a cup of hot chocolate as he stared out at the stars.  
"Captain," Fifebee had walked up silently behind him.  
"Finally got the metal plate off?" he asked.  
"Indeed," Fifebee quipped, "Perhaps next I will attempt to remove the pole welded to my spine,"  
"Huh?" Stafford look back at her, "Pole?"  
"Attempt at humor," Fifebee sighed, "I have no spine. Although judging by your various reactions to the holo-program,  
neither do the rest of you,"  
"It was just cheesy Halloween stuff," Stafford said,  
"Supposed to make you scream, without really scaring you,"  
"You may be interested to know," Fifebee said, "That we could have removed the Beetlejuice character and endured the program very easily, simply by repeating his name three times,"  
Stafford stared at her.  
"You're kidding, right?" he said.  
"Wrong," Fifebee replied, "In fact, judging by the unusual control that character had over the holodeck systems and the fact that we did not properly banish him, I would not be surprised if he is still there, somewhere deep in the holodeck memory banks,"  
with a pop her face suddenly took on a ghostly white color, her teeth a rotten black appearance, "Just waiting for the right time to pop back out!"  
Stafford blinked and rubbed his eyes. When he looked again, Fifebee was her normal self, looking back at him innocently.  
"You're kidding, right?" Stafford said finally.  
"I believe so," Fifebee shrugged.  
"Sylvia!" Stafford called out.  
"Yes, Chris?"  
"Please delete the Beetlejuice character from ALL holo-programs!"  
"Done," Sylvia reported.  
Fifebee raised an eyebrow.  
"Better safe than sorry," Stafford said defensively.  
"If you say so," Fifebee turned to leave, "Babes,"

End


End file.
